-J 


NEW  PSYCHOLOGY 


BY 


JOHN   P.  GORDY,  PH.D.,  LL.D. 

HEAD   OF   THE    PEDAGOGICAL   DEPARTMENT   OF   THE   OHIO   STATE   UNIVERSITY 


Copyright,  1898,  by  Hinds  (y  Noble 


HINDS  &   NOBLE,  Publishers 
4-5-13-14  COOPER  INSTITUTE,  NEW  YORK  CITY 


WE  ARE  ACTING 

As  the  Agents  of  numerous  Educational 
Institutions,  large  and  small,  throughout 
the  country,,  for  the  purchase  and  forward- 
ing of  all  Text-books  used  therein.  Our 
exceptional  facilities  enable  us  to  attend 
to  this  line  of  business  with  the  utmost 
promptness,  and  we  save  our  customers  the 
delay  and  uncertainty  of  correspondence 
and  dealings  with  numerous  publishers, 
express  companies,  etc. 

\Ve  can  present  no  better  testimony  as 
to  the  success  of  our  efforts  in  this  direc- 
tion, than  the  cordial  approval  of  our  old 
patrons,  who  are  constantly  sending  us 
new  customers. 

We  have  purchased  the  stock  and  good- 
will of  the  New  York  School  Book  Clearing 
House,  which  firm  retires  from  business. 


HINDS  &  NOBLE, 

4  Cooper  Institute,   -    New  York  City. 


£orei4tt  (aiuuiaac 

A.  C.    A.    LlNSENBARTH   &   Co. 
BOSTON,    MASS.,    U.S.A. 


PREFACE. 


THAT  the  most  effective  teaching  is  impossible  without 
an  acquaintance  with  the  elementary  principles  of  Psy- 
chology, is  no  longer  a  debated  question.  Fortunately 
there  are  many  who  are  "born  teachers."  Even  they  are 
more  successful  when  to  a  "  certain  instinct  for  teaching  " 
they  have  added  a  knowledge  of  Psychology.  Still  more 
helpful  to  a  genuine  success  is  a  knowledge  of  the  Mind 
to  the  plodding  rank  and  file,  that  large  body  of  earnest 
men  and  women  teachers  whose  really  splendid  equipment 
for  their  profession  is  to  be  credited  to  unremitting  hard 
work  inspired  by  an  honest  ambition  to  win  success,  and  a 
sturdy  determination  to  avail  themselves  of  every  approved 
resource. 

This  book  has  been  written  principally  for  the  special 
benefit  of  that  large  number  of  progressive  young  teachers 
who  have  not  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  a  college  education, 
but  who  nevertheless  are  striving  without  the  aid  of  an 
instructor  to  make  their  work  rational  and  therefore  more 
efficient  by  basing  it  on  a  knowledge  of  the  Mind.  The 
division  of  the  subject  matter  into  "  Lessons,"  while  ad- 
mirably adapting  the  book  to  the  special  requirements  of 
teachers'  reading  circles,  was  particularly  intended  by  the 
author  to  supply  the  need  of  a  practicable  text-book  for 

iii 

2210827 


IV  PREFACE. 

classes  in  Psychology.  Having  embodied  in  these  pages 
the  experience  of  many  years  in  teaching  Psychology  not 
only  to  teachers  but  also  to  pupils  in  the  schools,  the 
author  believes  that  he  has  provided  a  c/assbook  that  the 
teacher  may  place  with  confidence  in  the  hands  of  his 
pupils,  and  the  superintendent  or  Normal  School  instructor 
in  the  hands  of  his  training  classes.  It  is  hoped  that  the 
"  (Juestions"  following  each  Lesson  will  enhance  its  help- 
fulness both  to  the  teacher  and  the  student. 

The  author  ventures  to  hope  that  the  emphasis  laid 
upon  the  limitations  of  Physiological  Psychology  and  upon 
education  as  a  preparation  for  rational  living ;  above  all, 
that  his  constant  effort  to  keep  the  essential  difficulties  of 
the  subject  in  such  full  view  as  to  prevent  the  student  from 
mistaking  his  easy  mastery  of  this  elementary  book  for  a 
real  mastery  of  the  science  of  which  the  book  treats  —  are 
essential  features  which  will  be  commended. 

The  object  of  the  author  throughout  has  been  to  call 
the  attention  of  his  readers  to  important  mental  facts  in 
such  a  way  as  to  set  them  to  observing  their  own  minds 
and  the  minds  of  their  pupils,  in  order  to  see  for  them- 
selves the  usefulness  of  the  facts  and  the  experience  so 
gained,  their  application  to  the  daily  work  of  teaching,  and 
their  inestimable  value  as  an  added  factor  toward  success. 
Profoundly  convinced  as  he  is  of  the  importance  of  a 
knowledge  of  Psychology  to  the  teacher,  he  is  quite  as 
strongly  convinced  that  the  only  really  fruitful  knowledge 
of  Psychology  which  the  teacher  will  ever  gain,  he  will 
derive  from  a  study  of  his  own  mind  and  the  minds  of  the 
people  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact,  and  that  books 
about  Psychology  are  useful  chiefly  as  they  give  sugges- 
tions in  this  direction.  In  other  words,  the  aim  of  the 


PREFACE.  V 

author  has  been  to  act  the  part  of  a  guide  in  a  strange 
city> — to  tell  his  readers  where  to  look  to  find  valuable 
truths.  If  he  succeeds  in  stimulating  them  to  become 
diligent  students  of  their  own  minds  and  the  minds  of 
their  pupils,  he  will  be  more  than  satisfied. 

The  author  wishes  to  make  acknowledgment  to  his  col- 
leagues, Dr.  Bleile  and  Mr.  Wissler,  for  suggestions  relating 
to  the  chapters  on  Physiological  Psychology. 

J.  P.  G. 

OHIO  STATE  UNIVERSITY, 

COLUMBUS,  OHIO,  Feb.  8,  1898. 


CONTENTS. 


LESSON   I. 

PAGE 

THE  BENEFITS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY  TO  THE  TEACHER  i 


LESSON    II. 
THE  BENEFITS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY  TO  THE  TEACHER — continued        8 

LESSON    III. 
BODY  AND  MIND    .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .16 

LESSON    IV. 
THE  CENTRAL  NERVOUS  SYSTEM  .....      25 

'  LESSON  V. 
THE  FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM          ...      41 

LESSON  VI. 
THE  FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  CEREBRUM 53 

LESSON  VII. 
WHAT  is  PSYCHOLOGY? 65 

LESSON  VIII. 

THE  SUBJECT  MATTER  OF  PSYCHOLOGY       ....       72 

vii 


vjji  CONTENTS. 

LESSON    IX.  PAGE 

77 
THE  METHOD  OF  PSYCHOLOGY     . 

LESSON   X. 

N,  ,  KSSARY  TRUTHS  AND  NECESSARY  BELIEFS   ...      86 

LESSON    XI. 

94 
WHAT  ARE  WE  CONSCIOUS  OF?     . 

LESSON    XII. 

.     103 
ATTENTION 

LESSON   XIII. 

.  no 

ATTENTION  —  continued 

LESSON   XIV. 

..        .  118 

ATTENTION  —  continued 

LESSON   XV. 
ATTENTION  —  continued !3° 

LESSON   XVI. 
ATTENTION  —  continued         .        .        •        •        •        •        .    H2 

LESSON   XVII. 
KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND  WILLING *52 

LESSON   XVIII. 
SENSATION 1°3 

LESSON    XIX. 
SKNSATION — continued J73 

LESSON  XX. 
THE  LAW  OF  HABIT 183 


CONTENTS.  IX 

LESSON   XXI. 
ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS 196 

LESSON  XXII. 
PERCEPTION  208 

LESSON  XXIII. 

PERCEPTION  —  continued         .        .         .         .         .        .         -215 

LESSON   XXIV. 
PERCEPTION  AND  EDUCATION 224 

LESSON  XXV. 
MEMORY 234 

LESSON  XXVI. 
THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY 242 

LESSON   XXVII. 
IMAGINATION 255 

LESSON  XXVIII. 
IMAGINATION  —  continued 263 

LESSON   XXIX. 
CONCEPTION 273 

LESSON  XXX. 
CONCEPTION — continued 281 

LESSON   XXXI. 
CONCEPTION  —  continued 288 

LESSON  XXXII. 
CONCEPTION  —  continued 296 


x  CONTENTS. 

LESSON   XXXIII.  PAGB 

.     305 
JUDGMENT       

LESSON  XXXIV. 
JUDGMENT  —  continued 312 

LESSON  XXXV. 
REASONING 32° 

LESSON  XXXVI. 
KI.ASOMNG  —  continued 329 

LESSON    XXXVII. 
REASONING — continued •         •     339 

LESSON   XXXVIII. 
APPERCEPTION •   .     •    346 

LESSON   XXXIX. 
APPERCEPTION — continued 354 

LESSON  XL. 
NATURE  OF  DEVELOPMENT  364 

LESSON  XLI. 
THE  END  OK  EDUCATION 373 

LESSON  XLII. 
THK  STUDY  OK  INDIVIDUALS 384 


Ai-rixnix  A,  B 394 

INDEX 395 


GORDY'S    NEW  PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON   I. 

THE     BENEFITS     OF    PSYCHOLOGY     TO     THE     TEACHER. 

WE  all  believe  that  it  is  worth  while  to  study  a  great 
many  things  of  which  we  do  not  expect  to  make  any  practi- 
cal use.  You  believe,  for  example,  that  it  is  a  good  thing  to 
study  algebra  and  geometry,  not  because  you  think  the 
knowledge  of  them  is  likely  to  be  useful  to  you  —  unless 
you  should  be  called  upon  to  teach  them  —  but  because 
you  think  the  study  of  them  will  develop  your  mind. 

Reasons  for  Studying  Psychology.  —  Probably  that  is 
one  of  the  reasons  why  you  wish  to  study  Psychology. 
And  it  certainly  is  a  good  reason  for  studying  it.  Few 
subjects  are  better  calculated  to  develop  the  power  of 
thinking  than  Psychology.  You  know  that  the  way  to 
develop  any  power  of  the  mind  is  to  use  it,  and  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  make  any  headway  in  studying  Psychology 
without  thinking.  That  is  the  reason  why  it  is  so  hard, 

Develops  Power  of  Thought.  When  any  one  makes 
an  assertion  about  your  mind  —  and  that  is  what  human 


2  BENEFITS    OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Psychology  consists  of,  assertions  about  your  mind  and  the 
minds  of  all  human  beings  — it  is  often,  indeed  generally, 
impossible  to  realize  what  it  means  without  thinking.  Thus, 
suppose  I  say  that  a  mental  fact  is  known  directly  to  but 
one  person,  and  that  one  the  person  experiencing  it.  In 
order  to  realize  what  that  means,  you  have  to  look  into 
your  own  mind  for  an  example  of  a  mental  fact.  You 
recall  the  oft-repeated  assertion,  no  one  knows  what  any 
one  thinks  but  himself,  and  you  realize  that  a  thought  is 
a  mental  fact  known  to  but  one  person  directly,  and  that 
one  the  person  experiencing  it.  But  in  order  to  know 
what  other  facts  are  mental  facts,  you  must  think  long 
and  carefully,  until  you  have  made  up  your  mind  just  what 
facts  are  known  to  but  one  person  directly,  and  that  one 
the  person  experiencing  them. 

Even  when  you  can  understand  an  assertion  that  any 
one  makes  about  your  mind  without  looking  into  your  own 
mind,  it  is  generally  necessary  for  you  to  do  so  before  you 
can  decide  intelligently  whether  or  not  it  is  true.  If  any 
one  says  that  you  can  not  get  the  continuous  attention  of 
your  pupils  without  asking  questions,  or  without  giving 
them  some  other  motive  for  attending  besides  interest, 
that  statement  can  be  understood  without  special  effort. 
But  in  order  to  determine  whether  or  not  it  is  true,  you 
must  look  into  your  own  wind.  You  must  ask  yourself 
whether  any  one  can  keep  your  attention  for  a  half  or 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  simply  by  being  interesting.  If 
you  set  about  answering  it  in  the  right  way,  you  will  think 
until  you  recall  some  speaker  who  never  asked  you  ques- 
tions, or  did  anything  except  try  to  interest  you  to  keep 
your  attention,  but  who  was  interesting ;  then  I  am  sure 
you  will  remember  that  when  he  was  -speaking  your  mind 


PRACTICAL    REASONS.  3 

wandered  much  more  than  it  would  have  done  if  you  had 
known  that,  when  he  had  finished,  he  would  question  you 
about  what  he  was  saying.  You  will  remember  that  you 
often  allowed  your  mind  to  dwell  on  interesting  points  that 
he  raised,  to  the  exclusion  of  what  he  said  directly  after. 

For  these  two  reasons  —  (i)  because  you  can  not  under- 
stand most  of  the  assertions  in  Psychology  without  think- 
ing ;  and  (2)  because,  even  when  you  understand  them, 
you  can  not  tell  without  thinking  whether  or  not  they 
are  true —  I  know  of  no  subject  better  calculated  to  make 
a  pupil  think,  and  therefore  better  fitted  to  develop  the 
power  of  thinking,  than  Psychology. 

Practical  Reasons.  —  But  apart  from  this,  you  wish  to 
study  Psychology  for  quite  practical  reasons.  As  a  man 
who  intends  to  be  a  surveyor  studies  trigonometry,  not 
merely  because  it  will  develop  his  mind,  but  because  of 
the  use  it  will  be  to  him,  so  you  study  Psychology  because 
you  think  the  knowledge  of  it  will  make  you  a  better 

teacher. 

« 

Nature  of  Teaching.  —  How  will  it  help  you  in  this 
direction  ?  Before  you  can  answer  this  question,  you 
must  answer  another.  What  is  teaching  ?  People  used 
to  intimate  what  they  thought  of  this  by  saying  that  a 
teacher  "keeps  school."  But  "keeping  school"  is  not 
teaching.  Nor  is  it  to  teach  to  hear  recitations.  To  teach 
is  to  deal  with  mind —  is  to  get  it  to  DO  something  which 
it  would  not  have  done  apart  from  the  teacher,  in  order 
to  get  it  to  BECOME  something  which  it  would  not  have 
become  apart  from  him. 

In  order  to  do  this  intelligently,  you  plainly  need  to 


4  BENEFITS    OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

have  as  clear  an  idea  as  possible  of  what  you  wish  your 
pupils  to  become.  If  your  pupils  were  everything  that 
you  wish  them  to  become,  you  would  not  undertake  to 
teach  them.  What  is  it  that  you  wish  them  to  become  ? 
In  what  respect  do  you  wish  them  to  change  as  the  result 
of  your  teaching  ?  That  question,  the  study  of  Psychology 
will  help  you  to  answer ;  and  the  more  you  know  about 
Psychology,  the  more  clearly  and  fully  and  definitely  you 
can  answer  it. 

Meaning  of  Development.  —  Quite  likely  you  think  you 
can  answer  it  now.  You  say  you  wish  your  pupils  to  have 
better  developed  minds  at  the  end  of  each  day  than  they 
had  at  the  beginning.  But  better  developed  in  what 
direction  ?  The  North  American  Indians  had  remarkable 
powers  of  observation.  They  could  track  an  enemy  through 
a  forest  where  you  could  see  no  trace  of  a  human  being. 
Will  you  be  content  to  have  your  pupils  acquire  powers 
similar  to  those  possessed  by  the  North  American  Indians  ? 
Is  this  what  you  wish  them  to  become  ?  The  Chinese 
have  remarkable  memories.  Many  educated  Chinamen 
remember  almost  word  for  word  the  nine  classics  compiled 
and  edited  by  Confucius.  Do  you  want  your  pupils  to 
have  minds  like  the  Chinese  ? 

I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  imply  that  you  should  not 
aim  to  cultivate  the  observing  powers  of  your  pupils  as 
well  as  their  memories.  But  the  North  American  Indians 
developed  their  powers  of  observation  at  the  expense  of 
the  higher  powers  of  their  minds,  and  the  Chinese  their 
mechanical  memory  in  the  same  costly  way.  And  yet 
the  Chinese  aim  at  development.  It  is  evident,  there- 
fore, that  when  one  says  that  the  object  of  education 


NECESSITY   OF   A   DEFINITE   AIM.  5 

is  development,  he  has  not  expressed  a  very  definite  idea. 
The  question  is,  What  kind  of  development?  and  that 
question  Psychology  will  help  us  answer. 

Necessity  of  a  Definite  Aim.  —  So  you  see  that  when 
you  say  you  want  to  help  your  pupils  develop  their  minds, 
you  have  by  no  means  proved  that  you  know  precisely 
what,  as  an  intelligent  teacher,  you  ought  to  aim  at.  And 
unless  we  know  what  to  aim  at,  we  can  not  hope  to  have 
success.  Do  you  think  an  architect  could  build  a  beauti- 
ful house  if  he  began  to  build  it  and  worked  at  it  from 
day  to  day  without  having  in  his  mind,  so  to  speak,  the 
house  he  was  trying  to  build  ?  Well,  if  a  carpenter  must 
have  a  picture  in  his  mind  of  the  kind  of  house  he  wishes 
to  build  in  order  to  build  it,  how  can  we  hope  to  succeed 
in  moulding  and  forming  the  minds  of  our  pupils  in  an 
intelligent  way,  unless  we  have  the  clearest  ideas  of  what 
we  wish  them  to  become  ? 

Need  of  a  Criterion  of  Knowledge.  —  But  at  any  rate, 
perhaps  you  think  you  are  clear  as  to  one  thing  in  which 
you  wish  your  pupils  to  change ;  you  wish  them  to  become 
less  ignorant  —  you  wish  them  to  know  more.  But  to 
know  more  of  what  ?  We  have  not  got. very  far  when  we 
say  that  we  wish  to  help  our  pupils  to  acquire  knowledge, 
unless  we  have  made  up  our  minds  as  to  what  knowledge 
is  worth  acquiring.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  history  in  the 
text-books  which  is  not  worth  learning,  and  a  good  deal 
out  of  them  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  important,  and 
the  same  is  true  of  the  other  subjects  we  teach.  How  are 
we  to  make  up  our  minds  what  knowledge  is  worth  acquir- 
ing ?  The  study  of  Psychology  will  help  us  do  that.  It 


6  BENEFITS    OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

will  help  us  see  the  effect  which  the  acquiring  of  this  or 
that  piece  of  knowledge  will  have  on  the  mind,  and  in  this 
way  enable  us  to  estimate  its  worth. 

Here  again  it  is  evident  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
succeed  in  teaching  unless  in  some  way  we  are  able  to 
decide  intelligently  what  we  ought  to  get  our  pupils  to 
learn.  Until  we  are  able  to  decide  that,  we  can,  in  the 
first  place,  aim  only  to  get  them  to  learn  everything  in  the 
text-book.  This  is  bad  for  two  reasons :  in  the  first  place, 
text-books  are  sometimes  written  by  men  who  know  so 
little  of  the  subject  that  they  can  not  tell  what  is  important 
and  what  is  not  important ;  and  in  the  second  place,  intel- 
ligent men  put  many  things  in  text-books,  not  that  students 
may  learn  them,  but  that  they  may  be  able  to  refer  to 
them  if  they  have  occasion  to  use  them.  No  one  but  a 
fool  would  commit  to  memory  a  railroad  guide.  And  yet 
railroad  guides  are  very  useful;  but  when  any  one  has 
occasion  for  them,  he  goes  to  them.  He  remembers  what 
he  finds  there  just  as  long  as  he  wants  it,  and  then  does 
not  trouble  his  head  with  it  any  longer.  Now,  intelligent 
men  put  many  such  facts  in  the  books  they  write  —  facts 
which  they  do  not  expect  any  one  to  learn,  but  to  which 
they  think  persons  may  sometimes  have  occasion  to  refer. 
For  these  two  reasons,  it  is  very  unfortunate  for  a  teacher 
to  have  to  rely  entirely  upon  his  text-books  in  deciding 
what  to  teach. 

The  study  of  Psychology,  then,  will  help  us  see  what  we 
ought  to  aim  at.  It  will  help  us  see  the  kind  of  develop- 
ment we  ought  to  try  to  help  them  get,  and  the  kind  of 
knowledge  we  ought  to  try  to  impart. 


QUESTIONS.  7 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  are  the  two  reasons  for  studying  Psychology? 

2.  How  is  any  power  of  the  mind  developed? 

3.  What  are  the  two  reasons  which  make  the  study  of  Psychology 
so  useful  in  developing  the  power  to  think? 

4.  What  is  teaching? 

5.  Give  two  illustrations  to  show  that  when  you  say  you  wish 
your  pupils  to  have  better  developed  minds,  your  statement  lacks 
clearness. 

6.  Show  that  you  can  not  succeed  as  a  teacher  unless  you  know 
what  to  aim  at. 

7.  Show  that  when  you  say  you  wish  to  make  your  pupils  less 
ignorant,  your  statement  lacks  clearness. 

8.  How  will  the  study  of  Psychology  help  you  in  this  direction? 

9.  Why  should  not  a  teacher  limit  himself  to  teaching  what  is  in 
the  text-books  ? 

10.    What  is  the  central  thought  which  this  lesson  aims  to  bring 
out? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Which  do  you  regard  as  the  more  important  service  rendered 
by  the  study  of  Psychology  to  the  teacher  —  increasing  his  power  to 
think,  or  expanding  his  knowledge  of  the  conditions  under  which 
the  mind  acts  ? 

2.  One  writer  speaks  of  a  certain  kind  of  memory  as  the  "index" 
memory,  and  another  of  another  kind  as  the  "  mechanical  "  memory. 
Can  you  get  from  this  lesson  any  idea  of  what  they  are? 

3.  Do  you  believe  that  it  is  possible  to  train  the  powers  of  obser- 
vation in  general,  i.e.,  to  train  them  in  such  a  way  that  their  pos- 
sessor will  be  a  good  observer  of  any  kind  of  facts  ? 


LESSON    II. 

THK     KKNKFITS     OF     PSYCHOLOGY    TO    THE     TEACHER. 
(Continued.) 

Conditions  of  Success.— To  succeed  well  in  any  diffi- 
cult undertaking,  three  things  are  necessary:  (i)  one 
must  see  clearly  the  thing  to  be  done ;  (2)  he  must  have 
a  clear  idea  of  the  best  means  of  doing  it ;  and  (3)  he 
must  have  a  strong  motive  for  doing  it  well.  He  in  whom 
these  conditions  meet  most  perfectly  —  who  sees  most 
clearly  the  thing  to  be  done,  who  has  the  clearest  percep- 
tion of  the  best  means  of  doing  it,  who  has  the  strongest 
motive  for  making  strenuous  efforts  to  do  it  —  is  the  per- 
son most  likely  to  succeed  in  any  difficult  undertaking. 

The  study  of  Psychology  can  not  be  urged  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  likely  to  do  much  toward  making  the 
u-acher  interested  in  his  work,  and  more  willing,  therefore, 
to  work  hard  in  order  to  do  it  well.  It  is  not,  indeed, 
without  effect  in  this  direction.  The  work  of  teachers 
who  make  no  study  of  mind  is  likely  to  be  mechanical, 
while  the  work  of  teachers  who  base  their  efforts  on  a 
knowledge  of  mind  is  rational.  And  mechanical  work  is 
uninteresting,  unattractive  —  fit  only  for  machines.  Any- 
thing, therefore,  which  tends  to  make  a  teacher's  work 
rational  certainly  tends  to  make  it  interesting.  This  was 
what  Fitch  meant  when  he  called  teaching  the  noblest  of 
arts  and  the  sorriest  of  trades.  Practiced  mechanically, 


PSYCHOLOGY   AND    TEACHING.  9 

it  is  indeed  a  trade,  and  a  sorry  one  at  that ;  practiced 
rationally  —  practiced  by  one  who  realizes  that  he  is  deal- 
ing with  mind,  and  who  uses  this  method  or  that,  not 
because  some  one  else  has  used  it,  but  because  his  knowl- 
edge of  mind  leads  him  to  believe  that  a  given  method  is 
the  best  —  teaching  is  the  noblest  of  arts. 

Psychology  and  Teaching.  —  But  while  the  study  of 
Psychology  is  of  some  benefit  to  the  teacher  in  that  it 
tends  to  give  him  more  interest  in  his  work,  I  do  not  urge 
it  on  this  ground.  It  is  for  the  other  two  reasons,  ( i )  be- 
cause of  the  clearness  which  it  is  fitted  to  give  to  the  aim  of 
the  intelligent  teacher,  and  (2)  because  of  the  light  it  throws 
on  the  best  methods  of  realizing  that  aim,  that  I  believe 
no  teacher  who  is  ambitious  to  succeed  should  neglect  to 
study  those  phases  of  Psychology  that  bear  on  education. 

In  the  last  lesson  I  tried  to  show  what  the  study  of 
Psychology  can  do  for  us  in  the  first  direction.  I  tried  to 
show  that  when  we  are  able  to  say  that  our  aim  is  to  bring 
about  the  development  of  our  pupils,  we  have  not  got  very 
far  unless  we  have  made  up  our  minds  as  to  the  value,  so 
to  speak,  of  the  various  faculties  of  the  mind  —  that  unless 
we  know  the  worth  of  the  observing  powers,  and  of  the 
various  kinds  of  memory,  imagination,  and  reasoning,  we 
can  not  proceed  intelligently  in  training  them.  In  like 
manner,  unless  we  have  made  up  our  minds  as  to  "  what 
knowledge  is  of  most  worth,"  I  tried  to  show  that  it  is  of 
little  use  to  be  able  to  say  that  we  wish  to  induce  our 
pupils  to  acquire  knowledge.  I  tried  further  to  show  that 
Psychology,  by  helping  us  discover  the  relation  of  the 
various  powers  of  the  mind  to  each  other,  will  help  us 
determine  the  kind  of  development  we  ought  to  aim  at ; 


I0  BENEFITS   OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  also,  that  by  helping  us  see  the  effect  of  the  various 
kinds  of  knowledge  upon  the  mind,  it  will  help  us  decide 
"what  knowledge  is  of  most  worth." 

But  not  only  will  the  study  of  Psychology  tend  to  give 
clearness  and  definiteness  to  our  aim,  it  will  tend  quite  as 
strongly  to  show  what  we  must  do  to  realize  that  aim. 

Methods  Used  in  Dealing  with  Objects  in  the  Mate- 
rial World.  — In  dealing  with  mind  we  must  use  the  same 
kinds  of  methods  which  we  use  when  we  deal  with  objects 
in  the  material  world.  What  we  accomplish  in  the  mate- 
rial world  we  accomplish  by  putting  objects  where  they 
will  be  subject  to  new  influences,  so  that  the  forces  of 
nature  may  do  the  work  we  wish  to  have  done.  Mortar 
in  one  place  and  bricks  in  another  do  nothing  to  make  the 
walls  of  a  house,  but  place  the  bricks  on  a  strong  founda- 
tion, and  put  the  mortar  between  them,  and  you  have  a 
strong  wall.  All  you  have  done,  you  will  note,  is  to  move 
the  bricks  and  mortar  so  as  to  put  them  in  new  positions 
and  make  them  subject  to  new  influences,  so  that  the 
forces  of  nature  may  do  the  desired  work.  Heat  water 
to  the  boiling-point,  and  it  will  change  into  steam ;  and  if 
you  leave  it  where  it  can  escape,  nothing  will  come  of  it. 
But  move  the  water  into  a  confined  place,  so  that  the 
steam  can  not  escape,  and  then  you  can  make  it  drive 
immense  palaces  across  the  sea,  or  pull  huge  trains  across 
the  continent.  Every  invention  which  has  ever  been  made 
is  simply  a  way  of  moving  things  into  new  positions  where 
they  are  subject  to  new  influences,  so  that  the  forces  of 
nature  may  do  the  desired  work.  All  the  force  that  is 
employed  in  nature  exists  in  nature.  All  that  man 
accomplishes  he  accomplishes  by  making  the  forces  of 


METHODS   IN   DEALING  WITH  THE   MIND.  I  I 

nature  worfc  under  different  circumstances,  and  by  turn- 
ing them  into  different  channels  from  those  in  which  they 
wotild  have  worked  apart  from  him.  It  is  by  making 
nature  our  servant  that  we  have  made  such  wonderful 
progress  in  material  civilization  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
How  is  it  that  we  have  been  able  to  make  nature  work  for 
us  in  such  wonderful  ways  ?  Simply  by  knowing  the  laws 
of  nature.  Knowing  the  laws  of  nature,  we  have  been 
able,  so  to  speak,  to  foresee  what  she  would  do  under  cer- 
tain circumstances,  and  the  result  is  the  steam-engine,  the 
telegraph,  the  telephone,  the  phonograph,  and  all  the  other 
inventions  which  minister  to  our  well-being. 

Methods  to  be  Used  in  Dealing  with  the  Mind. — In 

dealing  with  mind  we  must  work  in  the  same  way.  As 
everything  which  happens  in  nature  is  due  to  the  laws  of 
nature,  so  everything  which  happens  in  mind  is  due  to  the 
laws  of  mind.  As  our  power  in  nature  depends  upon  the 
skill  with  which  we  get  her  to  work  for  us,  so  our  power 
in  dealing  with  mind  depends  upon  our  ability  to  get  it  so 
to  act  that  the  results  we  desire  will  follow.  As  success 
in  dealing  with  nature  consists  in  supplying  the  conditions 
which  make  it  possible  for  nature  to  do  the  desired  work, 
so  success  in  dealing  with  the  mind  consists  in  supplying 
the  conditions  which  make  it  possible  for  the  mind  to  do 
the  work  we  want  it  to  do.  And  as  the  better  we  know  the 
laws  of  nature  (in  other  words,  the  better  we  know  the  con- 
ditions under  which  nature  will  produce  this  or  that  result) 
the  better  we  can  supply  those  conditions ;  so  the  better 
we  know  the  laws  of  the  mind  (in  other  words,  the  better 
we  know  the  conditions  under  which  the  mind  will  do  this 
or  that,  the  better  we  can  supply  these  conditions.  The 


12  BENEFITS    OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

aim  of  the  teacher  being  a  certain  kind  of  development, 
and  the  communication  of  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge, 
evidently  the  more  he  knows  of  the  conditions  under 
which  the  mind  develops,  and  the  conditions  under  which 
it  acquires  knowledge,  the  better  he  can  supply  them. 

Difference  in  this  Respect  between  Natural  Agent 
and  the  Mind.  —  "  But  is  there  no  difference,"  you  may 
ask,  "between  a  natural  agent  and  the  human  mind  in 
this  regard  ?  May  we  say  of  the  human  mind,  as  we  may 
of  a  natural  agent,  that  it  will  always  do  all  the  work  it 
can  under  the  given  condition  ?  "  There  is  an  important 
difference,  but  it  makes  for  rather  than  against  the  skillful 
teacher.  A  natural  agent  can  not  be  flattered,  bribed,  or 
cajoled  ;  it  takes  no  account  of  intentions  or  motives.  In 
dealing  with  a  natural  agent,  the  one  single,  simple,  all- 
determining  question  is,  Are  the  conditions  fulfilled  ?  If 
they  are  fulfilled,  the  effect  will  follow ;  if  they  are  not 
fulfilled,  the  effect  will  not  follow.  But  the  case  is  dif- 
ferent with  the  human  mind.  When  we  have  put  the 
mind  under  the  right  influences,  it  has  a  natural  tendency 
to  the  kind  of  activity  we  wish  to  occasion  ;  but  this  ten- 
dency may  be  increased  or  diminished  by  purely  personal 
relations.  A  teacher  who  adapts  the  subject  of  instruction 
to  the  mental  condition  of  his  pupil  creates  a  tendency  in 
the  mind  of  his  pupil  to  follow  his  instruction  with  interest. 
But  if  by  impatience,  ill-humor,  or  sarcastic  remarks  the 
teacher  has  excited  the  antagonism  of  the  pupil,  the  pupil 
resists  the  tendency  ;  he  is  unwilling  to  do  what  he  knows 
his  teacher  desires.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  teacher  by 
patience  and  industry  and  kindness  has  gained  the  regard 
of  his  pupil,  the  pupil  exerts  himself  to  attend  to  the  sub- 


WHY   PUPILS   DO   NOT   LEARN.  13 

ject.  In  this  way  it  happens  that  personal  qualities  may 
atone,  to  some  extent,  for  lack  of  skill  on  the  part  of  the 
teacher. 

Do  you  ask  if  a  corresponding  increase  in  the  teacher's 
knowledge  of  mind,  and  a  corresponding  increase  in  his 
skill  in  basing  his  work  on  that  knowledge  would  enable 
him  to  work  such  miracles  in  the  minds  of  his  pupils  as 
inventors  have  worked  in  nature  through  their  knowledge 
of  the  laws  of  nature  ?  I  can  not,  of  course,  answer  such 
a  question.  No  one  can.  But  in  the  School  of  the  Far-off 
Future' — when  no  teacher  will  be  allowed  to  enter  a 
school-room  who  has  not  made  a  thorough  study  of  educa- 
tional Psychology,  and  who  has  not  proved  to  the  entire 
satisfaction  of  competent  judges  his  ability  to  apply  what 
he  has  learned  —  in  that  school  there  will  be  no  dull,  list- 
less, inattentive  pupils.  There  will  be  no  boys  who  leave 
school  because  they  do  not  like  it.  There  will  be  no 
pupils  who  hate  books. 

Why  Pupils  do  not  Learn.  —  As  a  child  learns  not 
only  rapidly  but  with  intense  pleasure  from  the  time  of  his 
birth  to  the  time  he  starts  to  school  simply  because  the 
activities  in  which  he  spontaneously  engages  are  fitted  to 
his  state  of  development,  so  he  will  continue  to  learn 
rapidly  and  with  intense  pleasure  after  he  starts  to  school 
if  the  work  he  is  set  to  doing  is  adapted  to  his  state  of 
development. 

Answer  of  Comenius.  —  Do  you  know  who  Comenius 
was  ?  It  was  he  who  said  that  if  our  pupils  do  not  learn  it 
is  our  fault.  And  he  was  undoubtedly  right.  If  we  supplied 
the  proper  conditions,  our  pupils  would  as  certainly  learn 


I4  BENEFITS    OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

as   a   train  will    move  when  the  engineer  turns  on  the 
steam. 

Answer  of  Pestalozzi.  —  Do  you  know  who  Pestalozzi 
was  ?  It  was  he  who  said  that  if  pupils  are  inattentive  the 
teacher  should  first  look  to  himself  for  the  reason.  He 
also  was  undoubtedly  right.  As  certainly  as  a  blade  of 
com  will  grow  and  mature  if  it  is  treated  right  —  if  the 
proper  conditions  are  supplied  —  so  certainly  will  our 
pupils  attend,  and  think  as  the  result  of  attending,  and 
develop  as  the  result  of  thinking,  if  we  supply  the  proper 
conditions. 

Can  Conditions  of  Learning  Always  be  Supplied  ?  — 
"  If  we  supply  the  proper  conditions."  It  is  but  truth  to 
say  that  that  sometimes  is  beyond  our  power  under  the 
circumstances  in  which  we  are  obliged  to  work.  Some 
pupils  have  so  little  capacity  for  a  subject  that  to  supply 
the  proper  conditions  would  require  an  amount  of  atten- 
tion which  the  teacher  can  not  possibly  give  them.  It  is 
doubtful  also  if  there  are  not  cases  in  which  there  is  so 
little  capacity  for  a  subject  as  to  make  it  a  waste  of  time 
for  the  pupil  to  attempt  to  study  it.  A  case  came  under 
my  own  observation  of  a  boy  who  would  spend  jive  hoiirs 
on  a  spelling  lesson,  and  still  miss  nine  words  out  of  ten. 
I  am  strongly  inclined  to  the  opinion  that  spelling  was  an 
accomplishment  which  he  could  not  afford  to  acquire. 
(.SVr  Appendix  A.) 


QUESTIONS.  15 

QUESTIONS    ON    THE   TEXT. 

1 .  What  three  things  are  essential  to  success  in  a  difficult  under- 
taking ? 

2.  What  can  the  study  of  Psychology  do  to  make  a  teacher  inter- 
ested in  his  work  ? 

3.  What  did  Fitch  say  about  teaching,  and  what  did  he  mean 
by  it  ? 

4.  How  will  the  study  of  Psychology  help  a  teacher  to  see  at  what 
he  should  aim  ? 

5.  How  do  men  accomplish  anything  in  nature  ? 

6.  Illustrate  your  statement. 

7.  Show  that  the  same  thing  is  true  in  our  dealings  with  mind. 

8.  Do  you  believe  that  teachers  could  accomplish  as  wonderful 
results  in  dealing  with  the  minds  of  their  pupils  as  inventors  have 
accomplished  in  dealing  with  nature,  if  they  knew  as  much  about 
mind  ? 

9.  Why  do  so  many  pupils  dislike  the  work  of  school  ? 

10.  What  did  Comenius  say  is  the  reason  our  pupils  do  not  learn? 

11.  Is  there  anything  in  our  system  of  classification  which  increases 
the  difficulty  of  adapting  our  work  to  individual  pupils  so  as  to  make 
it  pleasant  to  them  ? 

12.  What  can  be  done  to  obviate  this  ? 

SUGGESTIVE    QUESTIONS. 

1 .  Who  is  Fitch  ? 

2.  What  book  on  education  has  he  written  ? 

3.  Who  was  Comenius  ?     When  did  he  live  ? 

4.  Who  was  Pestalozzi,  and  when  was  he  born  ? 

5.  What  reform  did  he  work  in  education  ? 


LESSON   III. 

BODY  AND    MIND. 

Connection  between  Body  and  Mind. —We  all  know 
that  there  is  an  intimate  connection  between  body  and 
mind.  We  know  that  when  our  eyes  are  open  we  see, 
and  when  they  are  closed,  we  do  not  see ;  that  when  our 
hands,  or  other  parts  of  the  body,  are  in  contact  with  an 
object  we  have  a  sensation  of  touch,  and  when  they  are 
not,  we  do  not.  We  know  that  when  we  deprive  our  bodies 
of  proper  nourishment,  as  in  fasting,  we  have  a  headache, 
and  the  longer  we  fast,  the  more  incapable  we  become  of 
any  kind  of  mental  exertion.  We  know  that  any  derange- 
ment of  the  bodily  functions  produces  an  immediate  effect 
upon  the  mind.  We  know  that  tea  and  coffee  stimulate, 
and  that  alcoholic  liquors  intoxicate.  Many  a  student  has 
brought  upon  himself  a  feeling  of  bodily  exhaustion  through 
purely  mental  labor ;  or,  by  a  long  tramp  or  some  other 
form  of  prolonged  physical  exertion,  he  has  produced  a 
feeling  of  mental  exhaustion.  In  other  words,  prolonged 
mental  labor  not  only  fatigues  the  mind  but  the  body; 
prolonged  physical  labor  not  only  fatigues  the  body  but 
the  mind.  Those  are  a  few  of  the  familiar  facts  which 
have  made  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  doubt  that  there  is 
a  very  close  relation  between  the  body  and  the  mind. 

16 


THE    BRAIN    AND    THE    MIND.  I'J 

Opinion  of  the  Greeks  as  to  the  Connection  of  the 
Brain  and  the  Mind.  —  But  it  is  by  no  means  so  evident 
that  the  brain  is  the  part  of  the  body  which  is  in  some 
sort  of  direct  relation  with  the  mind,  and  that  the  rest  of 
the  body  influences  the  mind  only  through  its  relation  to 
the  brain.  We  shall  realize  this  if  we  remember  that 
though  the  Greek  physician,  Alcmaeon  regarded  the  brain 
as  the  common  meeting-place  of  the  senses,  and  this 
opinion  was  accepted  by  Plato,  yet  Aristotle,  himself  the 
son  of  a  doctor,  and  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  Greek 
philosophers,  rejected  it.  He  said  that  the  brain  was  a 
lump  of  cold  substance,  useful  .as  the  source  of  the  fluid 
which  lubricates  the  eyes,  but  quite  unfit  to  be  the  organ 
of  mind.  What  is  the  evidence  which  has  led  physiologists 
to  conclude  that  he  was  mistaken  ? 

Effect  on  Consciousness  of  a  Blow  on  the  Head.  —  It 

is  a  matter  of  direct  experience  that  the  connection  between 
consciousness  and  the  brain  is  closer  than  that  between 
consciousness  and  any  other  part  of  the  body.  A  blow  on 
the  head  may  deprive  us  of  consciousness ;  a  blow  on  any 
other  part  of  the  body,  as  a  rule,  only  inflicts  pain.  It  is 
indeed  true  that  a  blow  on  the  heart  may  cause  uncon- 
sciousness. But  that  is  because  the  blow  may  prevent 
the  heart  from  sending  to  the  brain  its  proper  supply  of 
blood. 

The  Nerves  Compared  with  Telegraph  Wires. —  More- 
over, the  pain  that  we  feel  from  a  blow  on  any  other  part 
of  the  body  depends  upon  the  brain.  Cut  the  nerve  that 
connects  one  of  the  fingers  with  the  brain,  and  an  injury 
inflicted  upon  it  makes  no  impression  on  consciousness. 


jg  BODY   AND    MIND. 

The  relation  between  the  body  and  the  brain  may  be 
roughly  compared  to  the  relation  between  a  telegraph  wire 
and  the  receiving  office.  The  telegraph  wire  is  important 
because  it  is  the  medium  through  which  the  messages  are 
transmitted  to  the  receiving  office.  But  it  is  the  machinery 
at  the  receiving  office  which  makes  the  receipt  of  messages 
possible.  And  precisely  as  no  message  can  be  received 
if  the  telegraph  wire  is  cut  or  injured,  so  no  effect  is  pro- 
duced upon  the  brain,  and  therefore  none  on  conscious- 
ness, if  the  nerves  connecting  an  injured  part  of  the  body 
with  the  brain  are  injured. 

There  is  a  rough  resemblance  between  the  relation  of 
consciousness  to  the  brain,  and  that  of  the  ringing  of  a 
bell  to  the  striking  of  its  sides  by  its  clapper.  Cause 
the  bell  by  any  means  to  swing  to  and  fro  so  that  the 
clapper  strikes  its  sides,  and  you  cause  it  to  ring.  Affect 
the  brain  in  any  way,  either  by  a  blow  on  the  head,  or 
by  increasing  or  decreasing  the  quantity  of  blood  that 
supplies  it,  or  by  changing  its  quality,  and  you  affect 
consciousness.  Pulling  the  bell-rope  only  causes  the  bell 
to  ring  because  it  causes  the  clapper  to  strike  the  sides 
of  the  bell.  When  we  see  how  closely  pain  follows  upon 
an  injury  inflicted  on  any  part  of  the  body,  we  might 
suppose  that  the  bodily  injury  is  the  direct  cause  of  the 
consciousness  of  pain.  But  when  we  remember  that 
the  bodily  injury  affects  consciousness  only  as  the  effect 
of  the  injury  is  communicated  to  the  brain,  we  see  that  it 
is  the  effect  upon  the  brain  that  influences  consciousness. 

The  Supply  of  Blood  to  the  Brain.  —  This  conclusion, 
which  facts  familiar  to  all  of  us  render  highly  probable, 
may  be  regarded  as  demonstrated  by  the  conclusions  of 


MOSSO  S    TABLE.  IQ 

science.  While  the  weight  of  the  entire  brain  is  only 
about  one  forty-second  of  the  weight  of  the  body,  it  has 
been  calculated  that  the  supply  of  blood  used  by  the  brain 
is  one  eighth  of  that  used  by  the  whole  body.  How  essen- 
tial this  supply  of  blood  is,  becomes  evident  if  it  is  in  any 
way  interfered  with.  Stop  one  of  the  great  arteries  lead- 
ing to  the  brain  by  compression  in  the  neck  or  in  any 
other  way,  and  great  disturbances  in  consciousness  at 
once  appear,  even  to  the  point  of  its  entire  cessation.  One 
investigator,  Dr.  Lombard,  found  that  the  temperature  of 
the  head  varies  rapidly,  though  slightly,  during  waking 
hours.  By  careful  measurements  with  delicate  thermo- 
electric apparatus  he  found  that  "  every  cause  that  attracts 
the  attention  —  a  noise,  or  the  sight  of  some  person  or 
other  object  —  produces  elevation  of  temperature.  An 
elevation  of  temperature  also  occurs  under  the  influence 
of  an  emotion,  or  during  an  interesting  reading  aloud."1 

Mosso's  Table.  —  If  it  were  possible  to  doubt  that  this 
rise  in  temperature  is  due  to  an  increase  in  the  blood 
supplied  to  the  brain,  that  possibility  would  seem  to  be 
removed  by  the  experiments  of  an  Italian  investigator 
named  Mosso.  He  devised  a  table  so  accurately  balanced 
that  a  man  might  recline  on  it  without  disturbing  its 
balance.  He  found  that  its  balance  was  at  once  destroyed 
by  any  cause  that  quickened  the  activity  of  the  subject's 
consciousness.  A  sudden  noise,  an  interesting  thought, 
anything  that  increased  the  activity  of  consciousness,  would 
cause  the  head  end  of  the  table  to  sink  down  as  quickly  as 
if  a  weight  had  been  placed  upon  it. 

1  Quoted  by  Ladd,  Physiological  Psychology,  p.  242. 


2O  BODY  AND    MIND. 

Localization  of  Cerebral  Functions.  — All  the  argu- 
ments in  support  of  what  is  called  the  localization  of  cerebral 
functions  are  so  many  arguments  to  show  that  the  brain 
is  the  organ  of  the  mind.  These  arguments  we  will  con- 
sider in  a  later  chapter.  Suffice  it  here  to  say  that  it  has 
been  proved  to  the  satisfaction  of  physiologists  and  psy- 
chologists, not  only  that  the  brain  is  the  organ  of  mind,  but 
that  particular  parts  of  the  brain  are  connected  in  a  pecu- 
liarly close  and  intimate  way  with  certain  mental  activities. 
Evidently  every  argument  in  support  of  this  conclusion  is 
equally  good  to  show  that  the  brain  is  the  organ  of  the  mind. 

A  large  number  of  experiments  made  upon  the  lower 
animals  prove  the  same  fact.  First  one  part  and  then 
another  of  the  brain  of  various  lower  animals  (frogs  and 
pigeons,  for  example)  has  been  removed  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  what  part  of  the  brain  is  connected  with  par- 
ticular classes  of  mental  operations.  And  though  the 
phenomena  vary  with  the  animal,  and  with  the  part  of  the 
brain  removed,  to  say  nothing  of  the  skill  of  the  operator, 
the  facts  taken  together  leave  no  doubt  of  the  special  con- 
nection between  the  brain  and  the  mind. 

The  American  Crow-bar  Case.  —  For  obvious  reasons 
such  experiments  have  not  been  performed  upon  the 
brains  of  men,  but  disease  and  accident  have  performed 
them  for  us.  One  of  the  most  famous  of  these  experiments 
is  that  which  is  now  known  as  the  American  crow-bar  case. 
While  a  young  man  named  Gage  was  "  tamping  a  blasting 
charge  in  a  rock  with  a  pointed  iron  bar,  3  feet  7  inches 
in  length,  i£  inches  in  diameter,  and  weighing  13*.  Ibs., 
the  charge  suddenly  exploded.  The  iron  bar,  propelled 
with  its  pointed  end  first,  entered  at  the  left  angle  of  the 


AMERICAN    CROW-BAR   CASE.  21 

patient's  jaw,  and  passed  clean  through  the  top  of  his  head, 
near  the  sagittal  suture  in  the  frontal  region,  and  was 
picked  up  at  some  distance  covered  with  blood  and  brains. 
The  patient  was  for  a  moment  stunned,  but,  within  an 
hour  after  the  accident,  he  was  able  to  walk  up  a  long 
flight  of  stairs  and  give  the  surgeon  an  intelligible  account 
of  the  injury  he  had  sustained.  His  life  naturally  was  for 
a  long  time  despaired  of  ;  but  he  ultimately  recovered,  and 
lived  twelve  and  a  half  years  afterwards.  .  .  .  The  whole 
track  of  the  bar  is  included  in  that  region  of  the  brain 
which  I  have  described  as  the  praefrontal  region.  .  .  . 
Hear  what  Dr.  Harlow  (in  a  paper  read  in  1868  before  the 
Massachusetts  Medical  Society)  says  as  to  his  mental  con- 
dition :  '  His  contractors,  who  regarded  him  as  the  most 
efficient  and  capable  foreman  in  their  employ  previous  to 
his  injury,  considered  the  change  in  his  mind  so  marked 
that  they  could  not  give  him  his  place  again.  The  equi- 
librium or  balance,  so  to  speak,  between  his  intellectual 
faculties  and  animal  propensities  seems  to  have  been  de- 
stroyed. He  is  fitful,  irreverent,  indulging  at  times  in  the 
grossest  profanity  (which  was  not  previously  his  custom), 
manifesting  but  little  deference  to  his  fellows,  impatient  of 
restraint  or  advice  when  it  conflicts  with  his  desires,  at 
times  pertinaciously  obstinate,  yet  capricious  and  vacillat- 
ing, devising  many  plans  of  future  operation,  which  are  no 
sooner  arranged  than  they  are  abandoned  in  turn  for  others 
more  feasible.  A  child  in  his  intellectual  capacity  and 
manifestations,  he  has  the  animal  passions  of  a  strong  man. 
Previously  to  his  injury,  though  untrained  in  the  schools, 
he  possessed  a  well-balanced  mind,  and  was  looked  upon 
by  the  people  who  knew  him  as  a  shrewd,  smart  business 
man,  very  energetic  and  persistent  in  executing  all  his 


22  BODY   AND    MIND. 

plans  of  operation.  In  this  regard,  his  mind  was  radically 
changed,  so  decidedly,  that  his  friends  and  acquaintances 
said  he  was  no  longer  Gage.' " 

Impairment  of  Memory  Due  to  Injury  of  the  Brain.  - 
It  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge  that  injuries  to  the 
brain  often  result  in  an  impairment  of  memory.  Forbes 
Winslow  notes  a  remarkable  case  of  a  soldier  upon  whom 
the  operation  of  trephining  had  been  performed  and  who 
lost  a  portion  of  his  brain.  The  result  was  that  he  forgot 
the  numbers  five  and  seven,  and  those  only.  After  a  time 
his  memory  of  these  numbers  was  restored.  Numerous 
cases  are  on  record  of  the  impairment  of  memory  in  con- 
sequence of  a  violent  blow  on  the  head. 

Aphasia.  —  Very  significant  as  to  the  dependence  of 
mind  on  brain  are  the  phenomena  designated  by  the 
general  term  aphasia.  Dr.  Bateman  says  the  term  is  used 
"to  designate  that  condition  in  which  the  intelligence  is 
unaffected,  or  at  all  events  but  slightly  impaired ;  when 
thoughts  are  conceived  by  the  patient  but  he  can  not 
express  himself,  either  because  he  has  lost  the  memory  of 
words,  or  because  he  has  lost  the  memory  of  the  mechan- 
ical process  necessary  for  the  pronunciation  of  these  words; 
or  because  the  rupture  of  the  means  of  communication 
between  the  gray  matter  of  the  brain  and  the  organs, 
whose  co-operation  is  necessary  to  produce  speech,  does 
not  allow  the  will  to  act  upon  them  in  a  normal  manner  as 
the  ideas  are  formed,  but  the  means  of  communication 
with  the  external  world  do  not  exist." 2 

1  Quoted  by  Calderwood  in  The  Relations  of  Mind  and  Brain,  pp.  479- 
481,  from  Terrier's  Localization  of  Cerebral  Disease. 
3  Quoted  by  Calderwood,  p.  388. 


MOTOR  APHASIA.  23 

Motor  Aphasia.  —  The  foregoing  definition,  as  we  shall 
see  in  a  later  chapter,  covers  phenomena  widely  different 
from  each  other.  A  man  who  can  understand  what  is  said 
to  him,  but  who  can  not  talk,  is  said  to  suffer  from  motor 
aphasia.  He  knows  what  he  wants  to  say,  but  he  has 
lost  control  of  the  mechanism  of  speech.  Sufferers  from 
another  kind  of  aphasia  have  perfect  control  of  the  mechan- 
ism of  speech.  They  can  talk,  but  they  can  not  under 
stand  what  is  said  to  them.  They  can  hear,  but  they  can 
not  grasp  the  meaning  of  what  is  said  to  them. 

Now  in  cases  of  motor  aphasia  it  has  been  proved  that 
the  cause  of  the  difficulty  is  located  in  a  definitely  ascer- 
tained part  of  the  brain.  Says  Professor  James  :  "When- 
ever a  patient  dies  in  such  a  condition  as  this  and  an 
examination  of  his  brain  is  permitted,  it  is  found  that  the 
lowest  frontal  gyrus  is  the  seat  of  injury." 

Correspondence  between  Size  and  Weight  of  Brain, 
and  Intelligence.  —  Still  another  class  of  facts  may  be 
pointed  out  as  indicating  the  closeness  of  the  relation 
between  the  mind  and  the  brain.  Comparative  anatomy 
shows  that  there  is  a  general,  though  indefinite,  corre- 
spondence of  the  place  of  an  animal  in  the  scale  of  intel- 
ligence, to  the  size  and  weight  of  its  brain  compared  with 
the  bulk  of  its  entire  body.  In  other  words,  as  a  rule,  the 
larger  and  heavier  the  brain  of  an  animal  in  comparison 
with  the  weight  of  its  entire  body,  the  higher  it  is  in  the 
scale  of  intelligence.  As  Professor  Ladd  says,  "  The  law 
itself  is  confessedly  subject  to  remarkable  and  unexplained 
exceptions ;  at  best  it  only  holds  good  in  a  general  way. 
For  example,  the  relative  weight  of  the  brain  is  not 
greatly  different  in  the  dolphin,  in  the  baboon,  and  in 


24  BODY  AND    MIND. 

man."  Nevertheless,  it  may  fairly  be  regarded  as  adding 
to  the  evidence  which  has  convinced  physiologists  and 
psychologists  that  the  brain  is  the  organ  of  the  mind. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Mention  some  of  the  facts  that  prove  the  dependence  of  the 
mind  upon  the  body. 

2.  Show  how  essential  to  consciousness  is  a  plentiful  supply  of 
blood  to  the  brain. 

3.  What  is  meant  by  aphasia  ? 

4.  State  the  details  of  the  American  crow-bar  case. 

5.  What  is  the  relation  between  the  size  and  weight  of  the  brain 
of  an  animal,  and  its  position  in  the  scale  of  intelligence  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  is  meant  by  the  localization  of  functions  ? 

2.  Have  any  cases  of  impairment  of  memory  from  injury  to  the 
brain  come  under  your  observation  ? 


LESSON    IV. 

THE    CENTRAL    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter  we  have  considered  the  evi- 
dence which  seems  to  prove  that  the  brain  is  the  organ  of 
the  mind.  Let  us  in  this  chapter  endeavor  to  get  an  idea 
of  that  wonderful  mechanism  of  which  the  brain  consti- 
tutes the  most  conspicuous  part.  Let  us  try  to  get  an 
idea  of  the  central  nervous  system. 

We  learned  in  the  last  lesson  that  there  is  a  direct  con- 
nection between  the  outside  of  the  body  and  the  brain.  If 
your  hand  comes  in  contact  with  a  hot  stove,  you  quickly 
become  aware  of  it  through  sensations  of  touch  and  of 
pain.  There  is  an  equally  direct  connection  between  the 
brain  and  the  muscles  that  move  the  hand.  As  soon  as 
you  become  conscious  of  the  sensation  of  pain  you  snatch 
your  hand  away. 

Nerves  and  Tendons.  —  If  you  dissect  the  body  of  one 
of  the  higher  animals,  you  will  see  some  of  the  machinery 
by  means  of  which  such  phenomena  are  brought  about. 
You  will  see  numerous  white  cords  which  look  like  tendons 
—  those  dense  white  cords  in  which  a  muscle  terminates, 
and  which  attach  the  muscles  to  the  bones  of  the  body. 
But  that  these  white  cords  are  not  muscles,  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  many  of  them  are  not  connected  with  muscles 

25 


26  THE   CENTRAL    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

at  all  and  those  which  are,  usually  enter  the  central  part 
of  the  muscle,  instead  of  being  attached  to  its  end  as  ten- 
dons  usually  are.  These  cords  are  nerves. 

If  you  follow  them  in  one  direction,  they  subdivide  into 
smaller  and  smaller  branches  until  they  become  too  small 
to  be  seen  without  the  aid  of  the  microscope.  If  you  fol- 
low them  in  the  opposite  direction,  they  become  larger  and 
larger  through  uniting  with  similar  nerves  until  they  enter 
a  much  larger  mass,  whose  structure  and  appearance  differ 
widely  from  that  of  the  nerves  which  enter  it.  This  mass 
is  called  a  nerve  centre. 

Nerve  Fibres  and  Nerve  Cells.  —  Nerves  are  composed 
of  one  or  more  nervous  elements  called  nerve  fibres,  bound 
together  by  connective  tissue.     The  chief  constituent  of 
a  nerve  centre  is  nerve  cells.    Nerve  fibres  and  nerve  cells 
differ  in  density,  shape  and  chemical  composition.    Fibrous 
nerve  matter  contains  more  water  than  cellular  nerve  mat- 
ter, and  is  therefore  less  dense  than  the  latter.    They  differ 
in   their  shape.      Fibres  are   long    "thread-like  connec- 
tions," while  nerve  cells  have  a  great  variety  of  forms. 
"  Some  are  nearly  round ;  others  ovoidal,  caudate,  stellate, 
or  shaped  like  a  flask  or  the  blade  of  a  paddle."     Nerve 
fibres  and  nerve  cells  differ  in  size.     Nerve  fibres  vary 
from  about  -j-g^ry  to  -^\^  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  while 
nerve  cells  vary  from  about  ?fa  to  -5^5  of  an  inch.     It  is 
supposed  that  there  are  not  less  than  two  and  a  half  mil- 
lions  of  sensory  nerve  fibres  alone,  while  man's  entire 
central  nervous  system  is  reckoned  to  have  about  three 
thousand  million  nerve  cells. 

Nerve  fibres  are  never  found  apart  from  nerve  cells. 
Indeed,  recent  investigation  has  shown  that  the  fibre  is  an 


NERVE    FIBRES   AND    NERVE    CELLS.  2/ 

outgrowth  or  prolongation  of  the  cell.1  A  nerve  cell  with 
its  prolongation  into  a  nerve  fibre  constitutes  the  unit  of 
the  nervous  system.  The  essential  element  of  a  nerve 
fibre  is  called  its  axis-cylinder.  Near  the  ending  of  a 
nerve  fibre  it  is  the  only  constituent  of  the  fibre  that  is 


FIG.  i.  —  Isolated  body  of  a  large  cell  from  the  ventral  horn  of  the  spinal  cord. 
Human,  X  2°°  diameters.  A,  fibre  or  fibrous  element ;  Z>,  dendrons ;  A7",  nucleus 
with  enclosures ;  P,  pigment  spot.  (Modified  from  Donaldson.) 

left ;  the  other  elements  —  the  transparent  envelope,  called 
the  primitive  sheath,  and  the  fatty  substance,  called  the 
medullary  sheath,  which  the  primitive  sheath  encloses  and 
which  usually  encloses  the  axis-cylinder  —  being  wanting. 

1  The  term  neuron  is  applied  to  the  cell  with  all  of  its  prolongations,  of 
which  the  fibre  is  only  one.  The  other  prolongations  of  a  cell  are  called 
dendrons. 


28 


THE    CENTRAL    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 


Two  Functions  of  the  Nervous  System.  — We  may 
regard  the  nervous  system  as  a  mechanism  having  two 
great  functions  to  perform  :  (i)  reporting  the  condition  of 
the  outside  world  to  the  individual,  and  enabling  him  to 
control  his  actions  accordingly  ;  and  (2)  binding  the  various 
parts  of  the  body  into  an  interdependent  whole. 

The  first  function  we  are  too  familiar  with  to  make 
extended  illustration  necessary.  A  person  suffering  from 
rheumatism,  feeling  a  draught  of  cold  air,  gets  up  and 


FIG.  2. —  Longitudinal  and  transverse  (A)  sections  of  nerve  fibres.  The  heavy 
border  represents  the  medullary  sheath,  which  becomes  thicker  in  the  larger 
fibres.  Sciatic  nerve.  Human,  X  4°°  diameters.  (Donaldson.) 


closes  the  window.  His  nerves  report  the  condition  of  the 
outside  world  ;  his  nerves  set  in  motion  the  machinery  — 
the  proper  muscles  —  by  means  of  which  he  closes  the 
window.  The  one  action  may  be  compared  with  the  tele- 
phoning to  the  fire  department  of  a  city  that  a  building  in 
a  certain  part  of  it  is  on  fire ;  the  other  to  the  sending  of 
engines  to  extinguish  the  fire. 

The  same  illustration  may  be  used  to  illustrate  the 
second  function  of  the  nervous  system,  the  binding  to- 
gether of  the  various  parts  of  the  body  into  one  inter- 


FUNCTIONS    OF   FIBRES   AND    CELLS.  2Q 

dependent  whole.  When  a  draught  of  cold  air  strikes  the 
body,  apart  from  the  voluntary  motion  which  it  may  occa- 
sion, its  effects  may  be  felt  throughout  the  entire  body. 
The  heart  and  lungs  may  modify  their  activity ;  some  of 
the  involuntary  muscles  may  contract ;  and  a  shudder  may 
run  through  the  entire  physical  organism.1 

Martin  well  says  that  in  common  life  "the  very  fre- 
quency of  this  uniting  activity  of  the  nervous  system  is 
such  that  we  are  apt  to  entirely  overlook  it.  We  do  not 
wonder  how  the  sight  of  pleasant  food  will  make  the 
mouth  water  and  the  hand  reach  out  for  it ;  it  seems,  as 
we  say,  'natural,'  and  to  need  no  explanation.  But  the 
eye  itself  can  excite  no  desire,  cause  the  secretion  of  no 
saliva,  and  the  movement  of  no  limb.  The  whole  complex 
result  depends  on  the  fact  that  the  eye  is  united  by  the 
optic  nerve  with  the  brain,  and  that  again  by  other  nerves 
with  saliva-forming  cells,  and  with  muscular  fibres  of  the 
arm ;  and  through  these  a  change  excited  by  light  falling 
into  the  eye  is  enabled  to  produce  changes  in  far-removed 
organs,  and  excite  desire,  sensation,  and  movement."  2 

Functions  of  Fibres  and  Cells.  —  This  general  survey 
of  the  functions  of  the  nervous  system  enables  us  to  antici- 
pate in  an  indefinite  way  the  work  to  be  done  by  the  two 
elements  of  the  nervous  system.  The  fibres,  or  nerves 
composed  of  fibres,  will  have  as  their  function  to  transmit 
stimulations  from  the  surface  or  outer  part  of  the  body  to 
the  nerve  centres,  and  to  transmit  impulses  from  those 
centres  to  the  muscles.  The  cells,  or  centres  composed 
of  cells,  will  have  as  their  function  to  receive  the  stimula- 

1  Cf.  Ladd,  Physiological  Psychology,  p.  19. 

2  Martin's  Physiology,  p.  208. 


30  THE    CENTRAL    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

tions   transmitted   by  the  nerves,   and  to  send   impulses 
along  the  nerves  to  the  muscles. 

Afferent  and  Efferent  Nerves.  —  The  nerves,  accord- 
ingly, may  be  divided  into  two  classes :  the  first  class 
connect  some  sensitive  structure  as  the  skin,  the  retina, 
the  nervous  membrane  of  the  stomach,  at  their  peripheral 
termination,  with  the  centre ;  the  second  connect  the  cen- 
tre with  the  muscles  to  which  they  are  attached  at  their 
peripheral  termination. 

The  first  class  are  excited  to  activity  by  some  structure 
at  their  peripheral  termination,  and  transmit  nervous 
action  to  the  centre.  They  are,  therefore,  called  afferent, 
in-carrying,  or  centripetal  nerves.  The  second  class  are 
excited  to  activity  by  the  nerve  centres  with  which  they 
are  connected,  and  transmit  nervous  excitation  to  the  mus- 
cles with  which  they  are  connected  at  their  peripheral 
extremity.  They  are,  therefore,  called  efferent,  out-carry- 
ing, centrifugal,  or  motor  nerves. 

The  most  important  of  the  afferent  nerves  for  Psychology 
are  those  which  are  called  sensory  nerves,  because  they 
connect  the  sense  organs — eyes,  ears  and  so  on  —  with 
the  nerve  centres.  The  most  important  of  the  motor 
nerves  for  Psychology  are  those  which  connect  the  nerve 
centres  with  the  "voluntary"  muscles  —  those  of  the 
hands,  arms,  legs,  eyes,  for  example. 

Nature  of  the  Sense  Organs.  —  The  greater  part  of 
the  sense  organs  consist  largely  of  mechanical  contriv- 
ances whose  function  is  to  modify  the  external  stimulus, 
and  convey  the  impulse  imparted  by  it  to  the  nerves  of 
sense. 


NATURE  OF  THE  SENSE  ORGANS.        31 

For  example,  the  nose  consists  in  large  part  of  a 
mechanism  for  bringing  the  particles  of  odorous  sub- 
stances in  contact  with  that  part  of  the  mucous  mem- 
brane of  the  nose  in  which  the  olfactory  nerve  terminates. 
In  order  that  an  object  may  be  smelled,  it  is  not  enough 
that  an  odorous  substance  be  held  near  the  nose.  A 
current  of  air  containing  particles  of  the  odorous  sub- 
stance must  be  drawn  through  the  nose,  and  thus  brought 
into  contact  with  the  terminal  fibres  of  the  olfactory 
nerve. 

In  like  manner  the  ear  consists  for  the  most  part  of  a 
mechanism  whose  function  is  to  modify  the  waves  of  sound, 
and  transmit  them  so  modified  to  the  internal  ear,  in  which 
the  fibres  of  the  auditory  nerve  terminate.  When  the 
vibrations  of  air  reach  the  tympanum,  they  have  too  large 
an  amplitude,  and  too  little  intensity,  to  occasion  these 
vibrations  in  the  elements  of  the  internal  ear,  which  are 
essential  to  the  excitation  of  the  auditory  nerve.  The 
tympanum  modifies  these  vibrations  so  as  to  adapt  them 
to  the  excitation  of  the  terminal  fibres  of  the  auditory 
nerve,  and  at  the  same  time  transmits  them  to  the  internal 
ear. 

So  likewise,  the  eye  consists  in  part  of  an  optical  instru- 
ment, in  part  of  a  sensitive  nervous  membrane  called  the 
retina,  on  which  the  image  resulting  from  the  optical 
instrument  is  formed.  The  eye,  as  an  optical  instrument, 
transmits  the  stimulations  received  from  light  to  the 
nervous  elements  in  the  retina  in  which  the  optic  nerve 
terminates. 

The  nerve  centres  with  which  Psychology  is  especially 
interested  are  those  which  are  found  in  the  encephalon,  or 
contents  of  the  skull,  and  the  spinal  cord. 


32  THE    CENTRAL    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

Gray  and  White  Matter.  —  These  centres  consist  of 
masses  of  gray  and  white  matter.  The  white  matter  con- 
sists chiefly  of  nerve  fibres;  the  gray  matter,  of  nerve  cells. 
These  cells,  as  we  have  seen,  have  prolongations  or  out- 
growths called  fibres,  of  which  the  axis-cylinder  is  the  most 
essential  element.  After  the  axis-cylinder  leaves  the  cell, 
it  divides  into  two  or  more  parts.  Some  of  these  parts 
enter  the  white  mass,  composed  chiefly  of  nerve  fibres,  and 
become  part  of  these  fibres.  Some  pass  through  this  white 
mass  and  unite  with  the  parts  into  which  the  axis-cylinders, 
extending  from  other  cells,  are  divided. 

Gray  Matter  of  the  Brain.  —  The  gray  matter  of  the 
brain  is  not  found  in  a  single  compact  mass.  The  cere- 
brum, located  in  the  upper  and  front  part  of  the  brain,  has 
a  covering  of  gray  matter,  "like  a  thin  rind,"  called  the 
cerebral  cortex,  from  ^  to  £  of  an  inch  in  thickness. 
Within  the  cerebrum,  and  separated  from  the  gray  matter 
of  the  cortex  by  a  mass  of  white  matter,  are  found  the 
large  ganglia  —  masses  of  gray  matter  —  which  are  called 
the  optic  thalami.  Behind  these  are  the  corpora  quadri- 
gemina,  and  behind  these,  and  forming  a  part  of  the  out- 
side surface  of  the  brain,  is  the  cerebellum.  These,  with 
the  gray  masses  of  the  spinal  cord,  and  the  medulla  ob- 
longata,  the  body  in  which  the  spinal  cord  terminates,  are 
the  gray  masses  of  the  nervous  system  in  which  Psychology 
is  especially  interested. 

Spinal  Cord.  —  The  spinal  cord  and  the  brain  are  con- 
There  is  no  point  where  we  can  say  that  the  one 
tops  and  the  other  begins.     Physiologists  have,  however, 
greed  to  regard  the  cord  as  commencing  opposite  the 


SPINAL    CORD. 


33 


outer  margin  of  the  foramen  magnum  of  the  occipital 
bone.  Its  average  diameter  is  about  |  of  an  inch ;  its 
length,  1 7  inches  ;  and  its  weight,  I  \  ounces. 

It  is  nearly  divided  into  right  and  left  halves  by  two 
fissures,  one  on  the  ventral,  and  the  other  directly  opposite, 


FIG.  3.  —  The  spinal  cord  and  nerve-roots.  A,  a  small  portion  of  the  cord  seen  from 
the  ventral  side  ;  B,  the  same  seen  laterally ;  C,  a  cross-section  of  the  cord ;  D, 
the  two  roots  of  a  spinal  nerve  ;  I,  anterior  (ventral)  fissure  ;  2,  posterior  (dorsal) 
fissure ;  3,  surface  groove  along  the  line  of  attachment  of  the  anterior  nerve- 
roots  ;  4,  line  of  origin  of  the  posterior  roots  ;  5,  anterior  root  filaments  of  spinal 
nerve  ;  6,  posterior  root  filaments  ;  6',  ganglion  of  the  posterior  root ;  7,  7',  the 
first  two  divisions  of  the  nerve-trunk  after  the  union  of  the  two  roots.  (Martin.) 

on  the  dorsal  side.  If  we  examine  a  transverse  section  of 
the  cord,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  composed  of  white  and 
gray  matter,  and  that  its  white  matter  surrounds  its  gray 
matter,  which  is  arranged  "somewhat  in  the  form  of 
a  capital  H,"  the  horizontal  bar  representing  the  gray 
matter  which  connects  the  gray  matter  in  the  right  and 


34  THE    CENTRAL   NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

left  halves  of  the  cord,  and  the  two  vertical  bars  represent- 
ing the  gray  matter  on  the  right  and  left  of  the  fissure. 

The  white  matter  consists  of  fibres,  some  traversing  it 
in  a  horizontal  and  others  in  a  vertical  direction,  and  a 
connecting  substance  called  neuroglia.  The  gray  matter 
consists  of  ganglion  cells  and  a  homogeneous  gray  mass  in 


FIG.  4.  —  Diagram  illustrating  the  general  relationships  of  the  parts  of  the  brain. 
A,  fore-brain ;  f>,  mid-brain;  B,  cerebellum ;  C,  pons  Varolii ;  D,  medulla  oblon- 
gata;  B,  C,  and  D  together  constitute  the  hind-brain.  (Martin.) 

which  a  majority  of  recent  observers  find  a  net-work  of  fine 
axis-cylinders  running  in  all  directions. 

Thirty-one  pairs  of  nerves  enter  the  spinal  cord.  Each 
of  these  nerves,  before  entering  the  cord,  divides  into  a 
dorsal  and  ventral  part  which  are  called  respectively  the 
posterior  and  the  anterior  roots  of  the  nerve.  The  posterior 
root  consists  of  afferent  or  sensory  fibres,  the  anterior  root 
of  efferent  or  motor  fibres. 


FOLDS    OF  THE    CORTEX.  35 

The  brain  is  much  larger  than  the  spinal  cord,  and 
much  more  complex  in  its  structure.  The  whole  brain 
in  the  adult  male  weighs  on  the  average  about  50  ounces. 
Figure  4  illustrates  in  a  general  way  the  position  of  the 
various  parts  of  the  brain.  The  fore-brain  weighs  in  man 
on  the  average  about  44  ounces.  It  consists  chiefly  of  the 
cerebrum,  which  is  divided  into  two  parts  known  as  the 
cerebral  hemispheres  by  a  deep  fissure  which  extends 
through  its  middle. 

Folds  of  the  Cortex.  —  The  gray  cortical  rind  which 
constitutes  the  surface  of  the  cerebrum  is  folded  upon 
itself  many  times  as  appears  from  Figure  5.  These  folds 
are  called  gyri  or  convolutions.  Their  effect  is  to  greatly 
increase  the  surface  of  the  brain.  It  is  estimated  that  if 
the  cortex  of  the  brain  of  a  person  of  average  intelligence 
were  unfolded  it  would  be  found  to  have  an  area  of  about 
four  square  feet.  The  folds  of  the  human  cortex  are 
deeper  and  more  numerous,  as  a  rule,  than  those  of  the 
most  intelligent  animals,  and  in  the  brains  of  the  most 
highly  civilized  nations  than  in  those  of  savages. 

For  reasons  which  will  be  stated  in  a  later  chapter,  the 
cortex  of  the  cerebrum  is  the  part  of  the  brain  which  is 
supposed  to  be  connected  in  the  closest  and  most  intimate 
way  with  intelligence.  It  is,  therefore,  important  for  stu- 
dents of  Psychology  to  pay  special  attention  to  it. 

If  we  examine  the  convolutions  of  different  brains,  we 
shall  see  that  they  vary  greatly  in  their  details,  not  only  in 
different  individuals,  but  even  in  the  two  hemispheres  of 
the  same  brain.  The  convolutions  have  been  divided  into 
primary,  secondary  and  tertiary  classes  according  to  the 
strength  and  clearness  and  positiveness  with  which  they 


36  THE    CENTRAL   NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

are  distinguishable.  The  primary  convolutions  have  been 
compared  to  the  large  mountain  ranges  whose  height  and 
breadth  and  direction  give  to  an  extensive  territory  its 
characteristic  features;  the  secondary  convolutions  to  those 
subordinate  ranges  which  owe  their  existence  to  valleys  in 
the  mountain  range,  running  in  the  same  direction ;  the 
tertiary  convolutions  to  the  small  spurs  that  extend  into 


cu 


FIG.  5.  — The  brain  from  the  left  side.  Cb,  the  cerebral  hemispheres  forming  the 
main  bulk  of  the  fore-brain ;  Ci>/,  the  cerebellum ;  Mo,  the  medulla  oblongata ; 
P,  the  pons  Varolii ;  *  the  fissure  of  Sylvius.  (Martin.) 


the  valleys  from  the  side  of  the  ranges.  The  primary  con- 
volutions are  distributed  in  the  brains  of  different  individ- 
uals and  in  the  two  lobes  of  the  same  cerebrum  with  a 
good  deal  of  regularity.  With  them,  all  regularity  stops. 
The  depressions  between  the  convolutions  are  called  sulci. 
Corresponding  to  primary,  secondary  and  tertiary  convo- 
lutions are,  accordingly,  primary,  secondary  and  tertiary 
sulci. 


CORTEX    A    SYSTEM    OF  ORGANS.  37 

Cortex  a  System  of  Organs.  —  The  cortex  is  a  very 
complex  organ — perhaps  we  ought  to  say,  system  of  organs. 
For  it  is  made  up  of  a  vast  multitude  of  nervous  elements 
with  immovable  fibres  connecting  them  with  each  other 
and  with  other  parts  of  the  nervous  system.  We  shall  the 
more  clearly  realize  the  reasons  for  regarding  —  at  least  in 
a  provisional  way  —  the  cortex  as  a  system  of  organs,  if  we 
bear  in  mind  what  these  connecting  fibres  are.  They  may 
be  divided  into  four  classes. 

Sensory  Fibres  and  the  Cortex.  —  The  first  class  is 
composed  of  sensory  fibres.  They  may  be  described  in 
brief  as  the  fibres  which  form  the  last  connecting  link 
between  the  surface  of  the  body  where  the  sensory  impulse 
starts,  and  the  centre.  I  say  the  last  connecting  link.  For 
the  nervous  impulse  "changes  cars,"  so  to  speak,  a  number 
of  times  on  its  way  from  the  surface  of  the  body  to  the 
cortex.  The  first  change  is  made  when  the  sensory  im- 
pulse reaches  the  cells  in  the  posterior  horns  of  the  spinal 
cord.  Sometimes  —  as  in  the  case  of  reflex  action,  here- 
after to  be  described  —  the  sensory  impulse  travels  no 
farther.  But  generally  it  travels  upward  along  fibres  which 
run  throughout  the  entire  length  of  the  spinal  cord  to  the 
medulla  oblongata,  where  these  terminal  fibres  bend  at 
right  angles  and  pass  into  its  gray  matter.  The  sensory 
impulse  is  interrupted  here  —  "changes  cars"  —  but  passes 
out  of  the  medulla  oblongata  through  a  number  of  other 
gray  masses,  until  it  finally  reaches  the  cortex.  These 
fibres  then,  the  fibres  which  form  the  last  connecting  link 
between  the  various  parts  of  the  surface  and  the  centre, 
are  the  first  of  the  four  classes  which  terminate  in  the 
cortex. 


5  THE    CENTRAL   NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

Motor  Fibres  and  the  Cortex. -The  second  class  of 

connecting  fibres  in  the 
cortex   are   those   that 
form  the  first  connect- 
ing link    between  the 
cortex  and   the  volun- 
tary muscles.      These 
motor    fibres,    as    we 
may  term  them,  are  the 
paths  by  which  motor 
impulses    travel    from 
the  cortex.    The  entire 
path   from    the    cortex 
to  the  muscle  has  been 
divided  into  two  parts 
—  the    central    motor 
path  and  the  peripheral 
motor  path.     The  cen- 
tral   motor    path  —  in 
the  case  of  the  spinal 
motor  nerve  —  consists 
of  (i)  the  fibres  extend- 
ing  from  the  cells  in 
the  cortex,  and  (2)  the 
fibres     extending     up- 
wards from  the  motor 
cells    of    the    anterior 
horns  of  the  spinal  cord. 
The  peripheral  motor 
path    consists    of    the 
fibres    connecting    the 
muscle.      The   motor   fibres 


FIG.  6. —  Schema  showing  the  pathway  of  the 
sensory  impulses.  On  the  left  side,  S,  S't 
represent  afferent  spinal  nerve  fibres ;  C,  an 
afferent  cranial  nerve  fibre.  This  fibre  in 
each  caso  terminates  near  a  central  cell,  the 
fibre  of  which  crosses  the  middle  line,  and 
ends  in  the  opposite  hemisphere.  (Modified 
from  Donaldson.) 


same   motor   cell   with   the 


ASSOCIATION    FIBRES.  39 

of   the    cortex   constitute    the   first    part   of    the    central 
motor  path. 

Association  Fibres.  —  The  third  class  of  connecting 
fibres  are  called  association  fibres.  They  connect  one  part 
of  the  cortex  with  another.  Says  Edinger  :  "  They  extend 
everywhere  from  convolution  to  convolution,  connecting 
parts  which  lie  near  each  other  as  well  as  those  which 
are  widely  separated."  They  are  called  association  fibres 
because  it  is  supposed  to  be  by  means  of  them  that  we  are 
able  to  associate  one  experience  with  another. 


FIG.  7.  —  Lateral  view  of  a  human  hemisphere,  showing  the  bundles  of  association 
fibres.  (Starr.)  A,  A,  between  adjacent  gyri ;  £,  between  frontal  and  occipital 
areas  ;  C,  between  frontal  and  temporal  areas,  cingulum ;  Z?,  between  frontal  and 
temporal  areas,  fasciculus  uncinatus ;  E,  between  occipital  and  temporal  areas 
fasciculus  longitudinalis  inferior;  C.N.,  caudate  nucleus;  O. T,,  optic  thalamus. 
(Donaldson.) 

Commissural  Fibres.  —  The  fourth  class  of  connecting 
fibres  are  those  which  connect  identical  parts  of  the  two 
hemispheres  of  the  cerebrum  with  each  other.  They  are 
called  commissural. 


4O  THE    CENTRAL   NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

QUESTIONS   ON  THE  TEXT. 

1 .  What  is  the  difference  between  nerve  cells  and  nerve  fibres  ? 

2.  What  is  a  neuron  ? 

3.  What  are  the  two  functions  of  the  nervous  system  ? 

4.  What  are  afferent  nerves  ? 

5.  Mention  the  parts  of  the  brain  in  which  Psychology  is  espe- 
cially interested. 

6.  Describe  the  four  classes  of  fibres  which  connect  one  part  of 
the  cortex  with  another,  and  with  the  various  parts  of  the  body. 


LESSON   V. 

THE    FUNCTIONS    OF    THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

Functions  of  the  Fibres.  —  After  this  brief  survey  of 
the  nervous  system  we  are  ready  to  consider  its  functions. 
It  is  evident  that  the  office  of  the  fibres  is  to  conduct 
nervous  excitations.  When  you  snatch  your  hand  away 
from  a  hot  stove,  the  pain  is  not  in  the  hand  ;  for,  if  the 
nerve  which  connects  the  hand  with  the  spinal  cord  is 
divided,  you  will  feel  no  pain.  The  brain  has  caused  a 
change  in  the  ends  of  the  nerve  that  cerminate  in  the 
injured  part,  and  this  change  has  been  transmitted  along 
the  nerve  to  the  spinal  cord.  The  same  kind  of  evidence 
shows  that  the  motor  nerves  running  from  the  spinal  cord 
to  the  muscles  have  the  same  office.  For,  if  the  nerves 
extending  to  the  muscles  of  your  arm  be  divided,  you  can 
not  snatch  your  hand  away  when  you  feel  the  sensation  of 
pain.  You  will  be  like  an  animal  shot  by  an  arrow  which 
has  been  dipped  in  the  poison  called  curari  —  a  poison 
which  renders  the  motor  nerves  incapable  of  action,  while 
it  does  not  affect  the  sensory  nerves.  You  will  feel  the 
pain,  but  will  be  unable  to  move  your  hand. 

Nature  of  a  Nervous  Impulse.  —  As  to  the  nature  of 
the  change  which  takes  place  during  the  passage  of  a 
nervous  impulse,  physiologists  and  psychologists  are  almost 


42        THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

entirely  ignorant.  Says  Professor  Martin  :  "  Since  between 
sense  organs  and  sensory  centres,  and  these  latter  and  the 
muscles,  nervous  impulses  are  the  only  means  of  communi- 
cation, it  is  through  them  that  we  arrive  at  our  opinions 
concerning  the  external  universe  and  through  them  that 
we  are  able  to  act  upon  it ;  their  ultimate  nature  is  there- 
fore a  matter  of  great  interest,  but  one  about  which  we 
unfortunately  know  very  little."  * 

Nerve  centres  also  conduct  nervous  excitations,  but  this 
is  not  their  most  characteristic  work.  Perhaps  the  best 
way  to  realize  what  this  is,  is  to  contrast  reflex  with  volun- 
tary actions,  as  many  physiologists  understand  it. 

We  all  know  what  is  meant  by  voluntary  actions.  They 
are  actions  which  seem  to  be  the  result  of  our  volitions. 
For  certain  conscious  reasons,  we  will  to  act  in  a  certain 
way,  and  the  action  follows.  If,  however,  the  act  takes 
place  as  the  result  of  the  stimulation  of  an  afferent  nerve, 
without  the  intervention  of  consciousness,  it  is  called 
reflex. 

Voluntary,  Reflex  and  Semi-reflex  Actions.  —  Pro- 
fessor James  gives  a  clear  illustration  of  the  difference 
between  voluntary  and  reflex  actions  and  a  kind  of  action 
intermediate  between  the  two.  "  If  I  hear  the  conductor 
calling  'All  aboard !'  as  I  enter  the  depot,"  he  says,  "my 
heart  first  stops,  then  palpitates,  and  my  legs  respond  to 
the  air  waves  falling  upon  my  tympanum  by  quickening 
their  movements.  If  I  stumble  as  I  run,  the  sensation  of 
Hing  provokes  the  movement  of  the  hands  towards  the 
direction  of  the  fall,  the  effect  of  which  is  to  shield  the 
body  from  too  sudden  a  shock.  If  a  cinder  enter  my  eye, 

1  Martin's  Physiology,  p.  203. 


MECHANICAL   NATURE    OF   REFLEX   ACTIONS.      43 

its  lids  close  forcibly,  and  a  copious  flow  of  tears  tends  to 
wash  it  out."  1 

In  this  illustration  we  have  examples  of  three  different 
kinds  of  action.  The  quickening  of  the  pace  in  con- 
sequence of  the  conductor's  "  All  aboard  !  "  is  an  example 
of  voluntary  action.  It  is  an  action  following  upon  a  dis- 
tinct volition,  or  at  least  upon  a  definite  state  of  conscious- 
ness. With  the  closure  of  the  eye,  on  the  other  hand,  and 
the  flow  of  tears,  consciousness  had  nothing  to  do.  The 
nervous  impulse  caused  by  the  cinder  passed  along  an 
afferent  nerve  leading  from  the  eye  to  a  certain  nerve 
centre,  and  that  centre  imparted  an  impulse  to  an  efferent 
nerve  connected  with  the  muscles  whose  contraction  results 
in  the  closure  of  the  eye,  and  the  result  was  the  closure  of 
the  eye  without  the  intervention  of  consciousness.  Such 
actions  are  called  reflex. 

The  movement  of  the  hands  illustrates  what  is  some- 
times called  semi-reflex  actions,  and  sometimes  acquired 
reflexes.  The  last  term  is  the  better  because  it  marks 
the  two  essential  facts  in  the  case:  (i)  The  action  so 
characterized  is  now  performed  without  the  intervention  of 
consciousness.  In  that  respect  it  is  like  reflex  actions,  so 
called.  (2)  Such  actions  were  not  originally  so  performed. 
They  are  therefore  said  to  be  acquired  reflexes. 

Mechanical  Nature  of  Reflex  Actions.  —  That  the 
actions  described  as  reflex  are  mechanical,  there  can  be  no 
manner  of  doubt.  Certain  afferent  and  efferent  nerves, 
with  the  nerve  centres  of  which  they  are  outgrowths  or 
prolongations,  with  the  muscles  with  which  the  efferent 
nerves  are  connected,  are  the  mechanical  contrivances  for 

1  James's  Psychology,  p.  12. 


44       THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

the  performance  of  certain  particular  kinds  of  actions 
Any  correct  definition  you  may  make  of  a  machine  will 
apply  equally  well  to  the  mechanism  concerned  in  reflex 
action.  Pull  the  trigger  of  a  gun  and  it  fires ;  put  a  cinder 
in  the  eye  and  it  closes.  Strike  a  certain  key  of  a  piano 
and  it  produces  a  certain  note.  Stroke  the  flanks  of  a 
brainless  frog  and  it  croaks. 

I  will  not  stop  here  to  enlarge  upon  the  fact  that  a  large 
number  of  actions  originally  voluntary  become  acquired 
reflexes  — which  is  only  a  way  of  saying  that  certain  nerve 
centres  can  be  educated  to  perform,  without  the  aid  of 
consciousness,  actions  of  which  they  were  quite  incapable 
in  the  beginning.  What  I  wish  to  emphasize  is  the  fact 
that  many  eminent  physiologists  and  not  a  few  psycholo- 
gists believe  that  there  is  no  real  difference  between  reflex 
actions  and  voluntary  actions,  except  in  the  degree  of  com- 
plexity of  the  mechanism  by  means  of  which  they  are 
brought  about. 

The  Automatic  Theory.  —  Says  the  physiologist  Foster: 
"  The  real  difference  between  an  automatic  (reflex)  action 
and  a  voluntary  act  is  that  the  chain  of  physiological 
events  between  the  act  and  its  physiological  cause  is  in 
the  one  case  short  and  simple,  in  the  other  long  and  com- 
plex." In  other  words  —  according  to  this  doctrine  —  as 
a  segment  of  the  spinal  cord,  with  its  afferent  and  effer- 
ent nerves,  may  be  regarded  as  a  comparatively  simple 
machine,  the  cerebrum,  with  the  nerves  and  the  nerve 
centres  connected  with  it,  is  likewise  a  machine,  only  very 
much  more  complex  and  intricate  in  its  structure.  As  you 
can  not  help  closing  your  eye  when  a  cinder  gets  into  it, 
your  spinal  cord  being  what  it  is,  so  you  can  not  help  read- 


THE    AUTOMATIC   THEORY.  45 

ing  this  chapter,  providing  you  are  reading  it,  your  cere- 
brum being  what  it  is.  As  consciousness  certainly  has 
nothing  to  do  with  reflex  actions  —  so  the  doctrine  asserts 
—  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  so-called  voluntary  actions.  If 
you  could  find  a  machine  whose  actions  made  no  noise,  it 
would  illustrate  the  reflex  machinery  of  our  bodies  in  that 
such  a  machine  acts  without  consciousness.  The  ordinary, 
more  or  less  noisy  machinery  with  which  we  are  acquainted 
illustrates  the  nervous  mechanism  by  which  so-called  vol- 
untary actions  are  performed.  For,  as  the  noise  of  the 
machine  contributes  nothing  whatever  to  what  the  machine 
does,  as  it  is  the  inert  effect  of  its  activity,  so  (accord- 
ing to  the  doctrine)  consciousness  —  our  feelings,  hopes, 
fears,  volitions  —  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  our 
actions.  We  get  up,  eat,  walk,  write,  read,  study,  go  on 
journeys,  adapt  a  long  series  of  actions  to  what  seems  an 
intelligent  purpose,  not  because  we  are  intelligent,  con- 
scious beings,  but  because  our  bodies  are  supplied  with  a 
wonderful  piece  of  mechanism  —  the  cerebrum. 

Some  crude  diagrams  may  help  to  make  the  matter 
clear. 


Diagram  i  illustrates  the  mechanism  of  reflex  action.  The 
line  AB  represents  the  afferent  nerve  along  which  a  nerv- 
ous impulse  travels  to  the  nerve  centre  BC,  and  CD  the 
efferent  nerve  along  which  the  nervous  impulse  is  deflected 
by  the  nerve  centre.  This  illustrates  in  a  rough  way  the 


46       THE    FUNCTIONS    OF   THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

mechanism  of  reflex  action.  A  nervous  impulse  starts  at 
one  point  A  and  is  propagated  to  a  nerve  centre,  where  it 
is  deflected  and  propagated  in  the  opposite  direction  by  a 
nerve  centre.  The  action  from  start  to  finish  is  purely 
material.  Consciousness  has  no  more  to  do  with  it  than  it 
has  with  the  falling  of  a  house  which  is  blown  down  by  a 
tornado. 

Diagram  2  illustrates  the  mechanism  of  so-called  volun- 
tary action  —  according  to  the  doctrine.  The  line  AB 
represents  the  path  of  a  nervous  impulse  to  a  nerve  centre 
as  before.  But  instead  of  deflecting  the  nervous  impulse 
in  the  opposite  direction  along  the  efferent  nerve  CD,  the 
nerve  centre  transmits  the  impulse  along  the  nerve  BF  to 
the  cortex  —  the  cortical  cells  deflect  it  in  the  opposite 
direction  and  propagate  it  along  the  nerve  GC.  Although 
consciousness  accompanies  such  actions,  it  has  nothing  to 
do  with  causing  them  —  according  to  the  theory.  A  mate- 
rial change  at  A  was  the  occasion  of  the  nervous  impulse, 
itself  only  a  material  change,  which  travels  to  B ;  a  mate- 
rial change  at  B  was  the  occasion  of  a  nervous  impulse  — 
material  change  —  which  travels  to  the  cells  of  the  cortex ; 
a  material  change  in  the  cells  of  the  cortex  caused  the 
nervous  impulse  —  material  change  —  along  the  nerves  GC 
and  CD.  From  start  to  finish  the  action  is  material,  and 
material  only.  And  although  at  a  certain  point  in  the  path 
consciousness  appears,  this  consciousness  has  no  more  to 
do  with  the  action  that  follows  than  the  whiz  of  a  moving 
wheel  has  with  its  motion. 

Objections  to  the  Theory.  —  I  have  not  explained  this 
theory  for  the  purpose  of  criticising  it.  A  theory  that  flies 
so  rudely  in  the  face  of  common  sense  does  not  need 


FUNCTION  OF  THE  NERVE  CENTRES.      47 

criticism  in  the  case  of  the  great  majority  of  students. 
Most  of  us,  I  am  confident,  will  feel  sure  that  it  is  rather 
the  result  of  the  limitations  in  the  knowledge  of  the  spe- 
cialists who  hold  it  than  the  proved  outcome  of  incontest- 
able reasoning.  Most  of  us  will  feel  that  these  specialists 
have  their  faces  toward  their  laboratories,  and  their  backs 
toward  life,  with  its  almost  infinite  wealth  of  intricate  and 
complex  adaptations  of  means  to  ends.  If  we  could  forget 
these  adaptations,  these  manifestations  of  intelligence  in 
ourselves  and  others  which  meet  us  on  every  hand,  it  would 
doubtless  be  easy  to  accept  a  theory  which  reduces  the 
actions  which  our  bodies  perform  to  one  ultimate  type,  a 
theory  which  banishes  consciousness  from  the  scene  of 
causality  as  an  unwelcome  intruder  and  disturber  of  that 
perfect  unity,  the  realization  of  which  is  the  ideal  of  the 
scientific  mind.  But  with  a  vivid  appreciation  of  these 
manifestations  of  intelligence  we  shall  not  be  disturbed  by 
the  speculations  of  these  theorists,  and  the  less  so  in  view 
of  the  fact  that  some  of  the  most  eminent  psychologists  in 
the  world  —  among  them  Professors  Wundt,  James  and 
Ladd  —  in  full  view  of  all  the  evidence  that  seems  to  sup- 
port the  theory,  have  rejected  it. 

Function  of  the  Nerve  Centres.  —  I  have  called  atten- 
tion to  the  theory  because  it  seems  to  me  to  put  in  a  clear 
light  what  is  admitted  by  all  parties  to  be  the  function  of 
the  nervous  centres  —  what  we  shall  call  the  co-ordination 
of  nervous  impulse,  in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  the  outgoing 
impulses  to  produce  an  apparently  purposive  result.  To 
exhibit  the  evidence  in  detail  for  this  conclusion  in  such  a 
book  as  this  is  impossible,  but  it  may  be  said  that  the 
whole  difference  between  the  psychologists  like  Professors 


48       THE    FUNCTIONS    OF    THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

James,  Wundt  and  Ladd,  who  reject  the  theory  I  have 
described  —  called  the  automaton  theory  —  and  those  who 
hold  it,  is  as  to  the  extent  to  which  this  work  of  co-ordina- 
tion is  performed  by  the  nerve  centres  without  the  aid  of 
consciousness.  The  former  admit  that  some  of  the  centres 
of  the  nervous  system  perform  this  work  of  co-ordination 
without  the  aid  of  consciousness;  they  also  admit  that 
where  consciousness  intervenes,  these  nerve  centres  are 
the  mechanism  it  employs.  The  automatists,  on  the  other 
hand,  maintain  that  this  work  of  co-ordination  is  in  all 
cases  the  unassisted  work  of  the  nerve  centres. 

Mechanism  Required  in  Reflex  Actions.  —  The  mech- 
anism required  in  reflex  actions  is  clear,  from  what  has 
been  said  of  them.  It  consists  (i)  of  a  sensitive  surface 
exterior  or  interior,  (2)  an  afferent  nerve,  (3)  a  cell  or 
nerve  centre  connecting  the  afferent  nerve  with  the  sensi- 
tive surface  (4)  of  an  efferent  nerve  connecting  the  nerve 
centre  with  (5)  a  muscle  or  muscles.1 

The  afferent  impulse  starts  in  (i),  passes  along  (2), 
reaches  (3),  is  there  changed  into  an  efferent  impulse, 
which  passes  along  (4),  finally  reaches  (5),  where  it  causes 
a  contraction  of  a  muscle  or  muscles.  The  essence  of 
reflex  action,  then,  consists  in  the  change  by  means  of  the 
protoplasm  of  a  nerve  cell  of  an  afferent  into  an  efferent 
impulse.2 

Efferent  Impulses. — An  efferent  impulse  is  not  simply 
a  deflection  of  an  afferent  impulse.  A  crumb  of  bread  in 

1  For  the  sake  of  simplicity,  I  omit  from  consideration  those  reflex 
actions  in  which  the  efferent  nerve  is  not  connected  with  muscles. 
8  Foster's  Physiology,  p.  129. 


AUTOMATIC    ACTIONS.  49 

contact  with  the  glottis  may  occasion  a  violent  fit  of  cough- 
ing in  which  not  only  all  the  respiratory  muscles,  but 
nearly  all  the  muscles  of  the  body,  are  brought  into  action. 
The  efferent  impulse  which  stimulated  the  muscles  whose 
contraction  resulted  in  coughing  is  not  in  such  a  case  a 
mere  deflection  of  the  afferent  impulse.  The  afferent 
impulse  was  slight  and  feeble ;  the  efferent  impulse  was 
extensive  and  powerful,  and  was  communicated  to  a  large 
number  of  nerves.  Evidently,  the  number  and  character 
of  efferent  impulses  in  any  given  case  depend  primarily 
not  on  the  afferent  impulse,  but  on  the  changes  which 
take  place  in  the  nerve  centres. 

Automatic  Actions.  —  In  addition  to  the  functions  of 
the  nerve  centres  in  reflex  action,  acquired  reflexes  and 
voluntary  actions,  some  of  them  have  functions  which  seem 
to  be  sharply  contrasted  with  these.  These  are  the  auto- 
matic centres,  "  which  are  centres  not  directly  excited  by 
nerve  fibres  conveying  impulses  to  them,  but  in  other 
ways."  For  example,  the  movements  in  breathing  do  not 
depend  upon  consciousness.  In  that  respect  they  are  con- 
tracted with  voluntary  actions.  But  the  nerve  centres 
that  propagate  the  nervous  excitation  to  the  muscles  con- 
cerned in  breathing  are  not  themselves  excited  to  activity 
by  efferent  fibres  leading  to  them.  They  are  stimulated 
directly  by  the  blood  that  flows  through  them.  Actions 
so  resulting  are,  in  this  respect,  contrasted  with  reflex 
actions. 

We  have  then  four  classes  of  actions:  (i)  automatic 
actions  —  in  which  the  nerve  centres  concerned  are  not 
stimulated  by  afferent  fibres  ;  (2)  reflex  actions  —  in  which 
the  centres  are  stimulated  by  afferent  fibres,  and  to  which 


50       THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

they  respond  with  machine-like  directness  and  regularity ; 
(3)  acquired  reflexes  — in  which  the  centres  are  also  stim- 
ulated by  afferent  fibres,  and  in  which  they  now  respond 
with  machine-like  directness  and  regularity,  but  in  which 
they  did  not  have  that  power  to  begin  with;  (4)  voluntary 
actions  —  whose  differentiating  characteristic  is  that  the 
centres  concerned  in  their  production  seem  to  depend  on 
the  will. 

Centres  of  Automatic  Action.  —The  medulla  oblongata 
contains  numerous  centres  of  automatic  action,  among 
them  the  movements  employed  in  breathing.  If  the  brain 
is  removed  above  the  medulla,  the  breathing  movements 
are  hardly  disturbed  at  all.  But  if  the  medulla  is  removed 
or  injured,  all  breathing  stops,  even  though  the  injury  be 
confined  entirely  to  the  medulla,  the  muscles  and  nerves 
concerned  in  breathing  being  entirely  uninjured. 

The  Cerebellum.  —  The  cerebellum  is  the  organ  for 
many  acquired  reflexes.  We  all  know  how  easy  it  is  to 
walk,  and  at  the  same  time  concentrate  our  entire  atten- 
tion on  a  conversation.  All  that  it  seems  necessary  for 
the  mind  or  consciousness  to  have  to  do  with  it  is  to 
set  the  machine  well  going,  so  to  speak,  when  some  part  of 
the  nervous  mechanism  relieves  consciousness  of  all  further 
work  in  the  matter.  We  have  forgotten  how  we  learned 
to  walk,  but  we  all  remember  how  necessary  it  was  to  give 
our  entire  attention  to  our  movements  when  we  were  learn- 
ing to  skate  or  ride  a  bicycle.  But  the  experienced  skater 
or  cyclist  can  skate  or  ride  with  as  little  attention  to  what 
he  is  doing  as  we  are  obliged  to  give  to  walking. 

The  difference  between  a  man  who  can  skate  and  one 


SUMMARY   OF  CONCLUSION.  51 

who  can  not  is  that  the  one  can  and  the  other  can  not 
control  his  muscles  in  such  a  way  as  to  produce  the 
desired  result.  And  the  difference  between  the  man  who 
can  only  skate  by  giving  his  entire  attention  to  it,  and  the 
one  who  can  skate  and  think  about  something  else,  is  that 
in  the  one  case  the  mandate  to  the  necessary  muscles  pro- 
ceeds from  the  cerebrum,  the  centre  directly  connected 
with  consciousness ;  in  the  other,  from  a  centre  not 
directly  connected  with  consciousness.  In  other  words, 
in  the  case  of  the  person  learning  to  skate,  walk,  ride  a 
wheel,  play  on  a  musical  instrument,  the  nervous  impulse 
to  the  proper  muscles  proceeds  directly  from  the  cortex  of 
the  cerebrum.  In  the  case  of  a  person  who  has  learned 
to  walk,  or  the  skillful  skater  or  wheelman,  all  that  the 
cortex  of  the  cerebrum  seems  to  do  is  to  initiate  the  action, 
when  the  supervision  and  further  direction  of  it  is  carried 
on  by  a  lower  centre.  That  centre  seems  to  be  the  cere- 
bellum. The  reason  for  this  conclusion  may  be  summarized 
as  follows :  When  the  cerebellum  is  injured,  the  most 
marked  result  seems  to  be  a  loss  of  the  power  to  perform 
the  acquired  reflexes  used  in  locomotion. 

Summary  of  Conclusion.  —  We  may  then  sum  up  the 
results  of  this  chapter  as  follows  :  The  functions  of  the 
nervous  system  may  be  broadly  divided  into  two  classes  — 
those  of  the  fibres  or  nerves,  and  those  of  the  cells  or 
centres.  The  office  of  the  fibres  is  to  conduct  excitations 
to  and  from  the  centres.  The  centres  are  concerned  in 
four  kinds  of  actions :  automatic,  reflex,  acquired  reflexes, 
and  voluntary.  The  medulla  oblongata  is  one  of  the  cen- 
tres from  which  automatic  actions  proceed.  The  spinal 
cord  is  pre-eminently  a  centre  of  reflex  actions.  It  is  also 


52       THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    NERVOUS    SYSTEM. 

a  centre  of  many  acquired  reflexes.  The  cerebellum  is 
the  centre  for  the  acquired  reflexes  used  in  locomotion. 
We  will  consider  the  functions  of  the  cerebrum  in  the  next 
lesson. 

QUESTIONS   ON  THE   TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  function  of  nerve  fibres? 

2.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  change  which  takes  place  during  the 
passage  of  a  nervous  impulse  ? 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  reflex,  semi-reflex,  automatic, 
and  voluntary  actions  ? 

4.  Explain  the  automaton  theory. 

5.  What  is  the  mechanism  required  in  reflex  actions  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Do  you  believe  in  the  automaton  theory? 

2.  Physiologists  are  much  more  inclined  to  accept  the  theory  than 
psychologists ;  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  reason  for  it  ? 

3.  How  do  you  account  for  the  purposive  character  of  reflex 
actions  ? 


LESSON   VI. 

THE    FUNCTIONS    OF    THE    CEREBRUM. 

Cerebrum  and  Intelligence.  —  That  the  cerebrum  is 
more  closely  related  to  intelligence  than  any  other  part  of 
the  nervous  system,  is  proved  by  the  same  evidence  that 
goes  to  show  that  the  brain  is  the  organ  of  the  mind. 
Re-read  the  lesson  on  that  subject  and  you  will  have 
before  you  the  evidence  that  has  convinced  physiologists 
and  psychologists  that  the  cerebrum  is  in  a  special  sense 
the  organ  of  the  mind.  The  blow  on  the  head  that 
deprives  one  of  consciousness  is  a  blow  that  affects  the 
cerebrum.  The  nervous  connection  that  must  be  main- 
tained in  order  that  pain  may  be  felt,  is  the  connection 
between  the  injured  part  and  the  cerebrum.  The  injuries 
to  the  brain  that  result  in  the  impairment  of  memory  or 
aphasia  are  injuries  of  the  cerebrum. 

Cortex  and  Intelligence.  —  But  the  cerebrum  is  a 
large  organ.  Is  there  any  evidence  to  show  that  any  par- 
ticular part  or  parts  of  it  sustain  this  especially  intimate 
relation  to  intelligence  ?  There  is  nearly  a  consensus  of 
opinion  among  physiologists  and  psychologists  to  the  effect 
that  there  is  such  a  part,  and  that  is  the  thin  rind  of  gray 
matter  called  the  cortex. 

The  evidence  for  this  opinion  may  be  stated  under  two 

53 


54  THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    CEREBRUM. 

heads:  (i)  The  higher  an  animal  stands  in  the  scale  of 
intelligence,  the  deeper  and  more  numerous,  as  a  rule,  are 
the  folds  or  convolutions  of  the  cortex.  Remembering 
that  these  folds  increase  the  surface  of  the  cortex,  we  may 
say  that,  as  a  rule,  the  higher  an  animal  stands  in  the 
scale  of  intelligence,  the  greater  the  extent  of  the  surface 
of  its  cortex  in  proportion  to  its  size.  There  are,  indeed, 
a  few  exceptions  to  the  rule.  A  few  animals,  not  high  in 
the  scale  of  intelligence,  have  deeper  and  more  extended 
folds  than  other  animals  standing  above  them  in  that  scale. 
(2)  The  cerebral  functions,  so  far  as  they  have  been 
located,  have  been  located  in  the  cortex.  All  the  evidence, 
therefore,  for  the  localization  of  those  functions  points  to 
the  same  conclusion.  What,  then,  is  the  nature  of  that 
evidence  ? 

Meaning  of  "  Localization  of  Functions."  —  Before 
attempting  to  answer  this  question,  let  us  try  to  get  a  clear 
idea  of  what  is  meant  by  "localization  of  mental  func- 
tions." The  question  which  the  theory  undertakes  to 
answer  may  be  stated  as  follows  :  Have  different  parts  of 
the  cerebrum  the  same  work  to  do  in  relation  to  our  men- 
tal life  ?  Do  they  sustain  the  same  relation  to  the  life  of 
sensation,  memory,  and  voluntary  motion  ?  Those  who 
say  that  they  have,  deny,  and  those  who  say  that  they 
have  not,  affirm,  the  localization  of  the  cerebral  functions. 

Presumptions  in  Favor  of  it.  —  The  most  general 
knowledge  of  the  nervous  system  would  lead. one  to  expect 
some  localization  of  the  functions  of  the  cerebrum.  We 
have  seen  that  there  are  sensory  nerves  and  motor  nerves 
—  nerves  that  minister  to  sensation  and  nerves  that  min- 


THE    DOCTRINE    COMPARATIVELY    NEW.  55 

ister  to  motion.  A  further  study  of  the  nerves  shows  us 
that  this  division  of  labor  is  carried  much  farther.  Some 
of  the  efferent  nerves  are  motor  and  some  are  not ;  some 
of  the  motor  nerves  are  voluntary  and  some  involuntary. 
Moreover,  each  motor  nerve  is  connected  with  some  par- 
ticular muscle,  not  with  the  muscles  in  general.  And 
precisely  as  the  motor  nerves  are  each  of  them  connected 
at  their  peripheral  terminations  with  certain  particular 
muscles,  so  they  have  their  origin  in  different  parts  of  the 
brain.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  nervous  impulse 
that  travels  along  them  to  the  muscles  does  not  have  its 
origin  in  some  definite  cell  or  group  of  cells.  In  like  man- 
ner the  sensory  nerves  that  connect  the  surface  of  the 
body  with  the  cortex  must  connect  that  surface  with  a 
definite  part  of  the  cortex,  provided  they  go  to  the  cortex 
at  all.  The  nerves  that  proceed  from  the  end  of  my  little 
finger  and  connect  it  with  the  cortex  must  terminate  in 
some  definite  place  ;  they  cannot  terminate  in  the  brain  in 
general. 

The  presumption,  thus  created,  that  different  parts  of 
the  cerebrum  will  be  found  to  have  different  offices  to  per- 
form in  relation  to  our  mental  life,  is  strengthened  by  a 
consideration  of  the  nerve  centres.  The  gray  matter  of 
the  spinal  cord  is  a.  succession  of  centres  for  the  perform- 
ance of  different  reflex  actions ;  the  medulla  oblongata  is 
a  group  of  centres  for  various  automatic  actions,  each  hav- 
ing its  own  definite  place.  Whether,  then,  we  consider 
nerve  fibres  or  the  lower  centres,  a  strong  presumption  in 
favor  of  the  localization  of  cerebral  functions  is  created. 

The  Doctrine  Comparatively  New.  —  Nevertheless, 
the  doctrine  as  a  scientific  theory  is  only  a  little  more 


56  THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    CEREBRUM. 

than  a  quarter  of  a  century  old.  The  most  eminent 
authorities  in  physiology  half  a  century  ago  decided  em- 
phatically against  it.  One  of  them  declared  that  he  had 
experimented  upon  the  cortex  of  different  animals,  dogs, 
rabbits,  and  kids,  "  had  irritated  it  mechanically,  cauterized 
it  with  potash,  nitric  acid,  etc.,  and  had  passed  galvanic 
currents  through  it,  in  different  directions,  without  obtain- 
ing any  signs  whatever  of  muscular  contractions."  ] 

The  same  year  another  eminent  physiologist  summed 
up  the  results  of  numerous  experiments  with  the  declara- 
tion that  the  various  parts  of  the  cerebrum  have  no  special 
function,  but  that  the  lobes  of  the  cerebrum  perform  their 
functions  with  their  whole  mass. 

In  1870  Fritsch  and  Hitzig  began  the  investigations, 
which,  with  those  of  many  other  workers  in  the  same  field, 
have  caused  the  opinion  of  those  physiologists  to  be  over- 
thrown. It  has  been  perfectly  established  that  certain 
parts  of  the  cerebrum,  at  least,  have  certain  specific  func- 
tions in  our  mental  life. 

In  stating  the  evidence  for  this  conclusion  no  descrip- 
tion will  be  attempted  of  the  particular  parts  of  the  cortex 
which  have  been  proved  to  be  connected  with  particular 
mental  activities.  Knowledge  of  this  sort  can  be  best 
imparted  by  diagrams,  and  upon  these  I  shall  rely  for 
making  clear  the  areas  of  the  cortex  concerned  in  particu- 
lar mental  activities  so  far  as  they  are  known. 

The  localizations  most  clearly  established  are  the  motor 
areas,  those  areas  from  which  the  nervous  impulse  starts 
which  results  in  the  contraction  of  the  voluntary  muscles. 
The  evidence  which  proves  that  there  are  such  areas  is  of 
various  kinds. 

1  Ladd's  Physiological  Psychology,  p.  253. 


EFFECTS    OF    STIMULATION.  57 

Effects  of  Stimulation.  —  (i)  It  has  been  proved  that 
the  stimulation  of  a  definite  part  of  the  cortex  of  dogs, 
monkeys  and  other  animals  produces  definite  movements, 
sometimes  in  the  face,  sometimes  in  the  hind-legs,  some- 
times in  the  fore-legs,  sometimes  in  the  tail,  according  to 
the  part  stimulated.  A  savage,  upon  accidentally  strik- 
ing a  key  of  a  piano,  might  suppose  that  there  was  no  real 
connection  between  his  action  and  the  sound  that  followed 
it,  that  the  one  followed  the  other  by  accident.  But  if  he 
struck  the  same  key  again  and  again,  and  if  he  extended 
his  experiments  to  the  other  keys  of  the  piano,  he  could 
hardly  fail  to  believe  that  there  was  a  causal  connection 
between  each  particular  key  and  the  sound  that  followed 
it.  In  like  manner,  when  we  learn  that  the  stimulation  of 
a  particular  part  of  the  cortex,  both  by  electricity  and 
mechanically,  is  invariably  followed  by  a  particular  move- 
ment; when  we  learn  that  this  movement  does  not  follow 
if  this  connection  between  the  part  of  the  cortex  stim- 
ulated and  the  nerve  centres  at  the  base  of  the  brain  has 
been  cut  off,  it  is  impossible  not  to  believe  that  that  part 
of  the  cortex  is  the  place  from  which  the  motor  nerves 
that  lead  to  the  muscles  concerned  in  the  movement  take 
their  origin. 

Effects  of  Removal  of  Parts  of  the  Brain  of  Animals. 

—  (2)  While  stimulating  definite  areas  of  the  cortex  occa- 
sions a  definite  movement  of  a  definite  part  of  the  body, 
it  has  been  proved  that  a  removal  of  the  cortical  area 
which  has  been  shown  by  stimulation  to  be  connected 
with  a  definite  movement,  deprives  the  animal  of  the 
power  to  perform  that  movement. 


58  THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    CEREBRUM.' 

Difficulties.  —  It  must  indeed  be  admitted  that  these 
experiments  do  not  permit  such  definite,  clear-cut  con- 
clusions as  those  arising  from  the  experiments  described 
in  the  preceding  paragraph.  For  it  has  been  proved  that 
the  loss  of  the  power  to  perform  definite  movements  which 
results  from  a  removal  of  a  particular  part  of  the  cortex  is 
not  permanent.  Says  Professor  James  :  "  Even  when  the 
entire  motor  zone  of  a  dog  is  removed,  there  is  no  perma- 
nent paralysis  of  any  sort." 

Explanation  of  these  Difficulties.  —  The  explanation 
of  these  facts  is  too  intricate  and  involved  to  be  under- 
taken in  such  a  book  as  this.  I  will  only  say  that  the 
generally  accepted  explanation  is  that  other  centres  some- 
how learn  to  do  the  work  usually  performed  by  the  cen- 
tres which  have  been  destroyed.  If  we  bear  in  mind  that 
every  cortical  centre  may  be  regarded  from  one  point  of 
view  as  the  place  where  incoming  currents,  along  afferent 
fibres,  become  outgoing  currents  along  efferent  fibres, 
and  if  we  remember  that  innumerable  fibres  connect  every 
cortical  centre  with  every  other,  we  shall  perhaps  be  able 
to  form  some  idea  of  how  this  is  possible.  As  a  train,  by 
the  destruction  of  the  city  of  Chicago  with  all  its  tracks 
and  depots,  although  prevented  from  going  from  New 
York  to  Denver  by  its  customary  route,  would  neverthe- 
less eventually  reach  its  destination  by  another  route,  so 
nerve  currents,  at  first  prevented  from  reaching  their  des- 
tination —  particular  muscles  —  by  the  destruction  of  the 
depots  —  nerve  centres  —  on  their  customary  route,  might 
eventually  reach  this  destination  over  new  routes  or  new 
paths. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that 


MEN    SUFFERING    FROM    BRAIN    DISEASE.  59 

animals  whose  motor  areas  have  been  removed  somehow 
learn  to  perform  the  movements  which  they  were  unable 
to  perform,  the  fact  can  not  overthrow  the  conclusion  that 
definite  parts  of  the  cortex  are  the  centres  particularly 
concerned  in  definite  movements. 

Observations  of  Men  Suffering  from  Local  Brain  Dis- 
ease. —  Observations  of  men  suffering  from  local  brain 
disease  have  helped  to  put  this  conclusion  beyond  the 
reach  of  doubt.  These  observations  have  made  it  possible 
to  map  out  with  a  great  deal  of  definiteness  the  areas 
of  the  brain  concerned  with  particular  movements.  Not 
only  have  the  centres  for  the  legs  and  face  been  mapped 
out,  but  within  the  areas  of  these  centres  smaller  ones 
have  been  mapped  out,  areas  which  are  concerned  with 
definite  movements  of  the  parts  of  the  body  concerned. 
Thus,  the  areas  concerned  with  the  motion  of  the  eyelids, 
with  the  muscles  of  the  angle  of  the  mouth,  all  have  their 
definite  positions  in  the  area  for  the  face.  "  So  definite," 
says  Professor  Martin,  "  are  the  positions  of  these  areas  that 
in  cases  of  localized  paralysis,  diagnosed  as  due  to  lesions 
of  the  cerebral  cortex,  surgeons  now  have  no  hesitation  in 
opening  the  skull  in  order  if  possible  to  remove  the  cause 
of  trouble,  as  a  small  tumor :  they  know  precisely  in  what 
spot  they  will  find  it."1 

Said  Dr.  W.  W.  Keen  :  "  When  I  say  that  the  existence 
of  a  tumor  about  the  size  of  the  end  of  the  forefinger  can 
be  diagnosticated,  and  before  touching  the  head  it  should 
be  said  (and  I  was  present  when  the  statement  was  made) 
that  it  was  a  small  tumor,  that  it  did  not  lie  on  the  surface 
of  the  brain  but  a  little  underneath  it,  and  that  it  lay 

1  Martin's  Physiology,  p.  624. 


60  THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    CEREBRUM. 

partly  under  the  centre  for  the  face  and  partly  under  that 
for  the  arm  in  the  left  side  of  the  brain,  and  that  the  man 
was  operated  on  and  the  tumor  was  found  exactly  where 
it  was  believed  to  be,  with  perfect  recovery  of  the  patient, 
—  it  is  something  which  ten  years  ago  would  have  been 
declared  the  art  of  a  magician  rather  than  the  cold  preci- 
sion of  science."  Evidence  such  as  this  may  be  regarded 
as  conclusive,  however  difficult  we  may  find  it  to  explain 
to  ourselves  all  the  related  facts. 

Aphasia.  —  Observations  of  persons  suffering  from 
aphasia  confirm  this  same  conclusion.  As  mentioned  in  a 
preceding  lesson,  in  every  case  in  which  a  post-mortem 
examination  of  the  brain  of  a  person  suffering  from  motor 
aphasia  has  been  permitted,  an  injury  has  been  found  in  a 
certain  definite  part  of  the  brain.  '  The  curious  facts  in 
connection  with  aphasia,  for  example,  that  a  person  has 
control  of  his  voice  but  can  not  talk,  or  that  he  can  write 
intelligently  but  can  not  talk,  or  that  he  can  write  but  can 
not  say  what  he  wishes  to  say,  or  that  he  can  write  but 
can  not  read  what  he  has  written,  are  easily  explained  by 
the  theory  of  localization  of  cerebral  functions. 

If  we  suppose  the  cortical  centre  for  the  control  of  the 
voice  and  for  talking  are  different,  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  injury  of  the  one  is  not  necessarily  the  injury  of  the 
other,  and  that,  therefore,  there  is  no  necessary  connection 
between  the  loss  of  the  power  to  talk  and  the  ability  to 
control  the  voice.  In  like  manner  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  centre  for  writing  may  not  be  impaired,  even  if  the 
association  fibres  that  connect  the  writing  centre  with  the 
cells  concerned  in  the  production  of  certain  ideas  are 
injured.  Also,  a  person  whose  centre  for  talking  is  injured 


HERING  ON  FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  CEREBRUM.   6 1 

will  be  unable  to  talk,  but  that  will  not  prevent  him  from 
being  able  to  write,  if  the  writing  centre  is  unimpaired. 
Nor  will  the  fact  that  a  person  can  write  enable  him  to 
read  what  he  has  written  if  the  association  fibres  connect- 
ing the  centres  concerned  in  seeing  with  the  centres  cor- 
responding to  the  idea  of^what  is  read  are  injured. 

Bering  on  the  Functions  of  the  Cerebrum.  —  Professor 
E.  Hering  states  his  conclusions  as  to  the  functions  of  the 
cerebrum  in  the  following  language :  "  The  different  parts 
of  the  hemispheres  are  like  a  great  tool-box  with  a  count- 
less variety  of  tools.  Each  single  element  of  the  cerebrum 
is  a  particular  tool.  Consciousness  may  be  likened  to  an 
artisan  whose  tools  gradually  become  so  numerous,  so 
varied  and  so  specialized  that  he  has  for  every  minutest 
detail  of  his  work  a  tool  which  is  especially  adapted  to 
perform  just  this  precise  kind  of  work  very  easily  and 
accurately.  If  he  loses  one  of  his  tools  he  still  possesses 
a  thousand  other  tools  to  do  the  same  work,  though  under 
disadvantages  both  with  reference  to  adaptability  and  the 
time  involved.  Should  he  happen  to  lose  the  use  of  these 
thousand  also,  he  might  retain  hundreds  with  which  to  do 
the  work  still,  but  under  greatly  increased  difficulty.  He 
must  needs  have  lost  a  very  large  number  of  his  tools  if 
certain  actions  become  absolutely  impossible." 

Problem  of  Physiological  Psychology.  —  The  assertion 
that  each  single  element  of  the  cerebrum  is  a  particular 
tool  specially  adapted  to  perform  a  certain  work  in  con- 
sciousness goes  a  long  way  beyond  the  evidence.  The 
sensations  of  sight,  sound,  smell,  touch  and  taste  have 
*been  localized  with  varying  degrees  of  probability.  But 


62  THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE   CEREBRUM. 

if  the  famous  postulate  of  Meynert  becomes  satisfactorily 
proved,  as  seems  possible,  the  most  distinctive  features 
of  the  consciousness  of  human  beings  will  remain  unex- 
plained. Professor  James  states  that  postulate  in  the 
following  language :  "  The  highest  centres  contain  nothing 
but  arrangements  for  representing  impressions  and  move- 
ments, and  other  arrangements  for  coupling  the  activity 
of  these  arrangements  together."  Suppose  this  proved. 
Suppose  we  knew  the  cortical  centre  for  each  sensation 
and  each  movement,  and  each  idea  of  a  sensation  and 
each  idea  of  a  movement ;  suppose  also  we  knew  the 
association  fibres  by  means  of  which  one  sensation  (cor- 
tical centre)  is  connected  with  another  sensation  (cortical 
centre),  shall  we  have  then  an  explanation  of  all  the  tools 
which  consciousness  uses  ?  We  shall,  provided  the  entire 
mental  life  consists  of  sensations  and  ideas,  and  associa- 
tions of  sensations  and  ideas.  But  if  this  is  not  all  of  the 
mental  life,  if  it  leaves  out  of  account  the  distinctive 
feature  of  mental  life,  the  consciojisness  of  relations,  as  I 
maintain  that  it  does,  then  thinking  (which  consists  in 
the  consciousness  of  relations]  is  a  part  of  the  mental 
life  which  in  the  nature  of  the  case  can  not  be  explained 
by  the  cerebrum.  Upon  this  conception  of  the  matter,  the 
work  possible  to  Physiological  Psychology  will  have  been 
done  when  Meynert' s  postulate  shall  have  been  satisfac- 
torily proved  in  all  its  details.  But  consciousness,  as  the 
relating  activity  of  the  mind,  as  binding  sensations  into  a 
whole  of  consciously  related  parts  (concepts),  and  concepts 
into  a  whole  of  consciously  related  parts  (judgments),  and 
judgments  into  a  whole  of  consciously  related  parts  (acts 
of  reasoning),  —  all  these  distinctive  and  unique  features 
of  the  human  mind  must  seek  their  explanation  in  a' 


PROBLEM    OF    PHYSIOLOGICAL   PSYCHOLOGY.       63 

Ro 

11 

•r 


Pa 


Fr 


FIG.  8. —  Diagram  of  outer  surface  of  left  cerebral  hemisphere  to  illustrate  the 
localization  of  functions.  The  motor  area  is  shaded  in  vertical  and  transverse 
lines :  Sy,  fissure  of  Sylvius ;  an,  angular  gyrus  or  convolution ;  Ro,  fissure  of 
Rolando  ;  Fr,  frontal  lobe  ;  Pa,  parietal  lobe ;  Te,  temporal  lobe.  Only  a  very- 
few  of  the  more  important  fissures  are  indicated.  Compare  with  Fig.  9.  (Martin.) 


FIG.  9.  —  Diagram  of  inner  surface  of  left  cerebral  hemisphere  to  illustrate  cerebral 
localization.  Sy,  fissure  of  Sylvius ;  Ro,  fissure  of  Rolando ;  Fr,  frontal  lobe ; 
Of,  occipital  lobe ;  Te,  temporal  lobe  •  Cc,  corpus  callosum ;  ///,  third  ventricle. 
Compare  with  Fig.  8.  (Martin.) 


64  THE    FUNCTIONS    OF  THE    CEREBRUM. 

department  of  thought  to  which  Physiological  Psychology 
is  an  entire  stranger. 

The  figures  on  page  63  will  show  what  is  known  of  the 
parts  of  the  cortex  in  which  the  various  mental  activities 
have  so  far  been  localized. 


QUESTIONS   ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Show  that  the  cerebrum  is  more  closely  related  to  intelligence 
than  any  other  part  of  the  brain. 

2.  Show  that  the  cortex  is  more  closely  related  to  intelligence  than 
any  other  part  of  the  cerebrum. 

3.  What  is  meant  by  the  "localization  of  cerebral  functions"? 

4.  State  the  evidence  for  it 

5.  What  is  Meynert's  postulate  ? 

6.  What  would  follow  if  it  were  proved  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  is  meant  by  the  "relating  activity  of  the  mind"? 

2.  Why  can  not  Physiological  Psychology  explain  it  ? 


LESSON   VII. 

WHAT    IS    PSYCHOLOGY  ? 

What  is  Psychology  ?  —  The  answer  usually  given  is 
that  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the  mind  or  soul.  But 
what  is  the  soul  ?  People  who  have  not  thought  carefully 
about  it  would  probably  say  that,  whatever  it  is,  it  cer- 
tainly is  not  the  mind.  Animals,  they  would  say,  plainly 
have  minds,  but  no  one  believes  that  they  have  souls. 

Do  Animals  Have  Souls  ?  —  It  may  serve  to  give  clear- 
ness to  our  ideas  to  consider  the  question  whether  or  not 
animals  have  souls.  Without  doubt,  in  the  confused  sense 
in  which  the  word  is  used  in  popular  language,  the  true 
answer  is  that  they  have.  If  you  suppose  that  animals 
have  no  souls,  let  me  ask  you  if  you  have  one.  You  will 
undoubtedly  say  that  you  have.  Suppose  I  ask  you 
whether  you  are  always  dreaming  when  you  are  asleep. 
You  will  probably  answer  that  you  are  not.  And  when 
you  say  that  you  are  not  dreaming,  what  do  you  mean  ? 

"  I  mean,"  I  imagine  you  saying,  "  that  there  are  no 
thoughts  or  feelings  in  my  mind." 

"  And  when  there  are  no  thoughts  and  feelings  in  your 
mind,  does  your  soul  continue  to  exist  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  say  that  you  do  not  think  you  are  always  dream- 

6S 


66  WHAT   IS    PSYCHOLOGY? 

ing  when  you  are  asleep  ;  and  when  you  say  that  you  are 
not  dreaming,  you  say  that  you  mean  that  you  have  no 
thoughts  or  feelings  in  your  mind.  So  far  as  thoughts 
and  feelings  go,  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  are 
exactly  like  a  dead  man.  A  dead  man  has  no  thoughts 
and  feelings,  neither  have  you  when  you  are  not  dreaming. 
Now,  when  you  have  no  thoughts  and  feelings  in  your 
mind,  does  your  soul  continue  to  exist  ? " 

"I  certainly  believe  it  does,  as  I  have  no  reason  to 
believe  that  it  ceases  to  exist  when  I  fall  asleep  and  begins 
to  exist  as  soon  as  I  awake,  as  must  be  the  case  if  it 
ceases  to  exist  when  I  have  no  thoughts  and  feelings." 

"Then  you  do  not  mean  by  soul  the  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings of  which  you  are  conscious,  or  a  part  of  those  thoughts 
and  feelings  ? " 

"  Again  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  say  that  your  soul  does  not  cease  to  exist  when 
you  have  no  thoughts  or  feelings  ;  now,  if  it  does  not,  your 
soul  can  not  be  your  thoughts  and  feelings,  can  it  ? " 

"  Why  not  ? " 

"  Because  if  it  were,  when  you  have  no  thoughts  and 
feelings,  you  would  have  no  soul,  would  you  ?  " 

"  I  see  that  I  would  not." 

"And  it  can  not  be  a  part  of  your  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings?" 

'  No,  for  if  it  were  an/part  of  them  when  I  had  none 
of  any  kind,  I  would  have  no  soul." 

"You  mean  by  soul,  then,  not  thoughts  and  feelings, 
but  the  thing  that  has  thoughts  and  feelings  ?  " 

"  Again  I  am  obliged  to  say  that  I  do  not  understand 
you." 

"A  German  professor  is  said   to  have  begun   a  first 


THE    SOUL   ONE    OF   THREE   THINGS.  67 

lesson  on  Psychology  in  this  way  :  '  Students,  think  about 
the  wall.'  After  a  moment's  pause :  '  Now  think  about 
the  thing  that  thinks  about  the  wall.  The  thing  that 
thinks  about  the  wall  is  what  is  to  be  the  subject  of  your 
study.'  That  is  what  you  mean  by  soul,  is  it  not  —  the 
thing  which  thinks  and  feels,  the  thing  which  has  thoughts 
and  feelings  ? " 

"It  is." 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  by  mind  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  which  thinks  and  feels,  or  that  which  has 
thoughts  and  feelings." 

"  But  things  which  are  identical  with  the  same  thing 
are  identical  with  each  other,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  They  are." 

"  And  if  the  soul  is  that  which  thinks  and  feels,  and  the 
mind  is  that  which  thinks  and  feels,  they  must  be  the 
same,  must  they  not  ? " 

"  I  see  that  they  must." 

"If  then  you  say  that  dogs,  for  instance,  have  minds, 
can  you  refuse  to  admit  that  they  have  souls  ? " 

"  I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  I  can  not." 

The  Soul  One  of  Three  Things.  —  In  this  imaginary 
dialogue  you  may  say  that  in  the  nature  of  the  case  I  can 
prove  what  I  wish  to  prove,  since  I  can  put  any  words  in 
your  mouth  I  please.  But  if  you  will  carefully  consider 
it,  you  will  see  that  you  are  obliged  to  say  that  the  soul  is 
one  of  three  things :  It  is  either  all  of  our  thoughts  and 
feelings,  or  a  part  of  them,  or  the  thing  which  has  thoughts 
and  feelings  —  the  thing  which  thinks  and  feels  and  wills. 
If  you  say  that  the  soul  is  all  or  a  part  of  our  thoughts 
and  feelings  —  mental  facts,  in  a  word  —  then,  instead  of 


68  WHAT   IS    PSYCHOLOGY? 

saying  that  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the  soul,  it  would 
be  much  plainer  to  say  that  Psychology  is  the  science  of 
mental  facts.  But  if  you  say  that  the  soul  is  that  which 
thinks  and  feels  and  wills,  then,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is 
no  difference  between  soul  and  mind,  and  we  are  left  with 
the  definition,  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the  mind. 

Meaning  of  Mind.  —  But  what  do  you  mean  by  mind  ? 
What  we  have  seen  in  the  case  of  the  soul  —  that  it  con- 
sists of  thoughts,  feelings,  and  acts  of  the  will,  or  that 
which  thinks,  feels,  and  wills  —  is  plainly  true  of  the  mind 
also.  It  must  either  be  that  which  thinks,  feels,  and  wills, 
or  it  must  be  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  acts  of  will  of 
which  we  are  conscious  —  mental  facts,  in  one  word.  But 
what  do  we  know  about  that  which  thinks,  feels,  and  wills, 
and  what  can  we  find  out  about  it  ?  Where  is  it  ?  You 
will  probably  say,  in  the  brain.  But  if  you  are  speaking 
literally,  if  you  say  that  it  is  in  the  brain,  as  a  pencil  is  in 
the  pocket,  then  you  must  mean  that  it  takes  up  room, 
that  it  occupies  space,  and  that  would  make  it  very  much 
like  a  material  thing.  In  truth,  the  more  carefully  you 
consider  it,  the  more  plainly  you  will  see  what  thinking 
men  have  known  for  a  long  time  —  that  we  do  not  know 
and  can  not  learn  anything  about  the  thing  which  thinks 
and  feels  and  wills.  It  is  beyond  the  range  of  human 
knowledge.  The  books  which  define  Psychology  as  the 
science  of  mind  have  not  a  word  to  say  about  that  which 
thinks  ana  feels  and  wills.  They  are  entirely  taken  up 
with  these  thoughts  and  feelings  and  acts  of  the  will  — 
mental  facts,  in  a  word  —  trying  to  tell  us  what  they  are, 
and  to  arrange  them  in  classes,  and  tell  us  the  circum- 
stances or  conditions  under  which  they  exist. 


DEFINITION    OF    MENTAL   FACTS.  69 

It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  that  it  would  be  better  to 
define  Psychology  as  the  science  of  the  experiences,  phe- 
nomena, or  facts  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self — of  mental 
facts,  in  a  word. 

Definition  of  Mental  Facts.  —  But  what  is  a  mental 
fact  ?  Let  us  say,  to  start  with,  that  it  is  a  fact  known 
directly  to  but  one  person,  and  that  the  person  experi- 
encing it.  If  you  are  standing  on  the  street  with  a  half 
dozen  friends,  you  can  all  see  the  houses,  and  men  and 
women  and  horses.  You  can  all  hear  the  tramping  of  feet 
and  the  clatter  of  the  vehicles  that  pass  along  the  street. 
These  facts  are  open  to  the  observation  of  all  of  you  alike. 
But  there  is  a  class  of  facts  known  directly  to  but  one  of 
you — ^what  you  think  and  feel  and  will,  you  know,  and 
no  one  else  does ;  what  A  thinks  and  feels  and  wills,  he 
knows,  and  no  one  else  does.  These  thoughts  and  feelings 
and  volitions  are  experiences,  phenomena,  or  facts  of  the 
mind,  soul,  or  self  —  mental  facts,  in  a  word  —  facts 
known  to  but  one  person  directly,  and  that  the  person 
experiencing  them. 

Unconscious  Mental  Facts.  —  But  I  believe  there  are 
mental  facts  not  known  to  any  one.  If  you  are  intent 
upon  a  book,  the  clock  may  strike  and  you  may  not  hear 
it  at  the  time,  and  a  minute  after  you  may  be  entirely  sure 
that  you  heard  the  clock  strike  a  minute  before,  although 
you  did  not  know  at  the  time  that  you  heard  it.  The  true 
explanation  of  facts  like  these  seems  to  be  that  the  clock 
produced  a  sensation  which  you  would  have  known  was  a 
sensation  of  sound  if  you  had  attended  to  it  at  the  time 
the  clock  struck,  and  in  the  sense  of  having  received  a 


yO  WHAT   IS    PSYCHOLOGY  ? 

sensation  because  of  the  clock,  you  heard  it.  But  you  did 
not  know  that  you  heard  it  until  the  minute  after.  Now, 
what  must  we  call  this  sensation  ?  Plainly  a  mental  fact, 
although  there  was  a  time  when  it  was  not  known  by  any 
one.  Still,  however,  it  is  marked  off  quite  sharply  from 
all  other  facts  —  physical  facts  we  may  call  them,  which 
may  be  known  with  equal  directness  by  any  number  of 
people  —  by  the  circumstance  that,  although  not  known, 
it  is  knowable  by  but  one  person,  and  that  the  person 
experiencing  it.  We  may  then  define  a  mental  fact  as  a 
fact  known  or  knowable  to  but  one  person  directly,  and 
that  the  person  experiencing  it,  and  Psychology  as  the 
science  of  mental  facts,  or  the  science  of  the  facts  of  mind. 

QUESTIONS   ON    THE   TEXT. 

1.  How  is  the  question,  "What  is  Psychology, "  usually  answered? 

2.  Would  you  say  that  dogs  have  souls  T 

3.  How  would  you  defend  your  answer? 

4.  What  is  the  objection  to  defining  Psychology  as  the  science  of 
the  mind  or  soul  ? 

5.  How  would  you  define  Psychology? 

6.  What  is  a  mental  fact? 

7.  What  is  a  physical  fact  ? 

8.  Into  what  two  classes  would  you  put  mental  facts  ? 

9.  Can  you  have  mental  facts  without  knowing  that  you  have 
them? 

10.    Give  examples. 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Do  animals  reason  ? 

2.  Are  you  ever  in  a  state  of  dreamless  sleep  ? 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  matter  as  a  substance,  and 
matter  as  a  group  of  phenomena  ? 


QUESTIONS.  71 

4.  What  do  we  know  of  matter  as  a  substance  —  of  the  experi- 
ences, phenomena,  or  facts  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self  ? 

5.  Why  is  it  that  it  so  often  happens  that  you  can  not  tell  your 
motives  for  what  you  do  ? 

6.  In  what  sense  is  it  true  that  the  soul  is  in  the  brain  ? 


LESSON   VIII. 

THE    SUBJECT    MATTER    OF    PSYCHOLOGY. 

IN  the  last  lesson  I  tried  to  point  out  the  subject  of 
which  Psychology  treats.  I  objected  to  the  usual  defini- 
tion, "  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the  mind  or  soul,"  not 
because  it  is  incorrect,  but  because  I  do  not  believe  it 
gives  young  students  definite  ideas.  I  want  you  to  get  at 
the  outset  the  clearest  possible  notion  of  the  subject  you 
are  to  study.  I  want  you  to  realize  that  the  facts  of  which 
you  are  directly  conscious,  the  facts  known  directly  to  you 
only  —  that  these  and  similar  facts  form  the  subject  of 
which  Psychology  treats. 

Physical  and  Mental  Facts.  —  We  may,  perhaps,  put 
the  subject  matter  of  Psychology  in  a  clearer  light  by 
contrasting  mental  facts  with  physical  facts.  A  physical 
fact,  as  we  know,  is  one  open  to  the  observation  of  all 
men.  Trees,  houses,  flowers,  fences  —  the  whole  of 
external  nature,  in  a  word  —  are  physical  facts,  since  all 
of  us  can  observe  them  with  equal  directness.  But  what 
shall  we  say  of  the  brain,  or  any  of  the  internal  organs  of 
one's  body  ?  Are  they  mental  facts  ?  They  are,  provided 
they  are  known  to  but  one  person  directly,  and  that  the 
person  experiencing  them.  But  careful  reflection  will  con- 
vince you  that  no  one  has  any  direct  knowledge  of  his 
body. 

72 


DIRECT    KNOWLEDGE    OF    OUR    BODIES.  73 

Have  we  Direct  Knowledge  of  our  Bodies?  —  That 
we  have  such  an  organ  as  the  heart,  for  example,  was 
established  by  a  process  of  reasoning.  If  we  had  known 
it  directly,  it  is  hard  to  see  why  the  world  was  obliged  to 
wait  for  Harvey  to  demonstrate  the  circulation  of  the 
blood  —  why  it  was  not  from  the  beginning  a  matter  of 
direct  knowledge.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  at  first  thought, 
it  is  pretty  nearly  absolutely  certain  that  we  have  no  direct 
knowledge  of  our  own  bodies.  We  learn  of  the  existence 
of  our  own  bodies  as  we  do  of  the  rest  of  the  external 
world,  by  a  process  of  reasoning.  Descartes  long  ago  said 
that  if  we  could  move  the  sun  or  moon  by  an  effort  of  will, 
as  we  can  our  hands  and  feet,  we  should  regard  them  as 
a  part  of  our  own  bodies.  The  sole  difference,  so  far  as 
Psychology  is  concerned,  between  any  external  object,  as 
a  tree,  and  our  bodies,  is  (i)  that  the  former  does  not 
move  in  obedience  to  our  wills,  and  (2)  that  it  is  not  a 
source  of  sensations  as  our  bodies  are.  I  put  my  hand  on 
a  hot  stove,  and  I  have  a  feeling  of  pain.  I  put  a  stick  in 
the  same  position,  and  I  have  no  such  sensation. 

How  a  Child  Distinguishes  his  Body  from  the  Rest 
of  the  External  World.  —  Any  one  who  has  ever  watched 
a  very  young  child  will  be  quite  sure  that  he  has  not  dis- 
criminated his  body  from  the  rest  of  the  external  world. 
He  first  confuses  his  body  with  the  rest  of  the  external 
world.  Little  by  little  he  comes  to  learn  that  a  little  piece 
of  this  external  world  sustains  a  very  peculiar  relation  to 
him  —  that  it  obeys  his  will,  moves  when  he  wishes  it  to 
move,  stops  when  he  wishes  it  to  stop,  and  that  it  is  the 
direct  occasion  of  pleasure  and  pain  as  nothing  else  is. 
These  two  facts,  then,  and  these  two  facts  alone,  distin- 


74  THE    SUBJECT   MATTER   OK   PSYCHOLOGY. 

guish  our  bodies  from  the  rest  of  the  external  world,  so 
far  as  Psychology  is  concerned,  and  give  us  our  peculiar 
interest  in  them. 

While  this  course  of  reasoning  makes  it  clear  that  the 
internal  organs  of  the  body  are  not  mental  facts,  another 
course  will  make  it  equally  clear  that  they  are  physical 
facts.  Is  a  pencil  in  a  drawer  a  physical  fact  ?  No  one 
can  see  it.  No,  you  say,  but  every  one  can  see  it  if  it  is 
taken  out  of  the  drawer.  Precisely.  We  need,  then,  to 
think  of  a  physical  fact  as  one  open  to  the  observation  of 
all  men,  certain  conditions  being  complied  with.  Bearing 
this  in  mind,  we  see  that  the  various  internal  organs  of 
the  body  are  physical  facts,  because  when  the  body  is  dis- 
sected they  are  open  to  the  observation  of  all  men,  pre- 
cisely as  is  a  tree  or  flower. 

Nature  of  the  Mental  Facts  of  which  we  are 
Conscious.  — Hoping,  then,  that  the  difference  between 
mental  and  physical  facts  is  so  clear  that  there  will  be  no 
danger  of  confusing  them,  permit  me  to  call  your  attention 
a  little  more  closely  to  the  mental  facts  which  we  are  to 
study,  in  order  that  we  may  avoid  a  mistake  into  which 
many  people  fall  —  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  any  of 
the  mental  facts  of  which  we  are  conscious  are  simple. 
You  remember  our  definition  of  Psychology  —  the  science 
of  the  facts,  phenomena,  or  experiences,  which,  when  we 
are  conscious  of  them,  we  are  conscious  of  as  experiences 
of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self.  The  point  I  wish  to  emphasize 
is  that  we  are  never  conscious  of  any  experience,  separated 
or  detached  from  the  mind.  As  you  read  this,  you  are, 
perhaps,  conscious  of  attending.  Look  into  your  own 
mind  and  see  what  it  is  you  are  conscious  of ;  it  is  of 


OF   UNCONSCIOUS    MENTAL   FACTS.  75 

yourself  attending,  is  it  not  ?  —  not  of  an  abstract  act  of 
attention.  So,  also,  when  you  perceive  or  remember  or 
imagine  or  reason,  what  you  are  conscious  of  is  not  an 
abstract  act  of  perception  or  memory  or  imagination  or 
reasoning,  but  yourself  perceiving,  yourself  remembering, 
yourself  imagining,  yourself  reasoning.  This,  of  course,  is 
only  another  way  of  saying  that  you  yotirself  enter  as  a 
constituent  into  every  mental  fact  of  which  you  are  con- 
scious. In  other  words,  in  being  conscious  of  mental  facts, 
we  are  conscious  of  ourselves.  Many  writers  appear  to 
think  that  a  mental  fact  of  which  we  are  conscious  exists 
independently  of  the  mind  and  separate  from  it,  as  a  tree 
or  a  stone  seems  to  do.  But  a  careful  looking  into  your 
own  mind  will  convince  you  that  they  are  mistaken ;  it 
will  convince  you  that  when  you  are  conscious  of  a  mental 
fact  you  are  really  conscious  of  yourself  in  a  certain  act 
or  state,  of  yourself  having  a  certain  experience.  As  you 
never  know  the  act  or  state  or  experience  apart  from  your- 
self, so  you  never  know  yourself  apart  from  the  act  or 
state  or  experience.  Hume  said  that  when  he  looked  into 
his  own  mind  he  always  found  thoughts  and  feelings  and 
acts  of  the  will,  but  he  never  found  anything  else  —  he 
never  found  any  self.  Certainly  not  in  the  sense  in  which 
he  was  speaking.  He  was  looking  for  a  self  apart  from, 
and  independent  of,  the  various  thoughts,  feelings,  and  acts 
of  the  will  of  which  he  was  conscious,  and  no  such  self  is 
to  be  found.  The  self  of  consciousness,  I  repeat,  exists  — 
not  apart  from,  but  as  an  element  of,  the  various  experi- 
ences of  which  we  are  conscious. 

s     Of  Unconscious  Mental  Facts.  —  You  will  be  careful 
to  note  that  the  mental  facts  into  which  the  mind  enters 


76  THE    SUBJECT    MATTER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

as  a  constituent  are  those  of  which  we  are  conscious. 
I  have  already  tried  to  show  that  mental  facts  exist  in  the 
lives  of  each  of  us  of  which  we  are  not  conscious ;  mental 
facts  of  the  existence  of  which  we  never  know  save  by  a 
process  of  reasoning.  Of  such  mental  facts  the  mind  is 
not  an  element,  and  that  is  precisely  why  we  are  not  con- 
scious of  them.  The  mind  is  conscious,  or  has  direct 
knowledge,  of  only  its  own  acts  or  states  or  modifications 
or  experiences.  A  mental  fact  which  is  not  an  act  or 
state  or  modification  of  the  mind,  the  mind  can  learn  the 
existence  of  only  by  a  process  of  reasoning.  And  now  I 
hope  the  scope  of  our  definition  of  Psychology  is  entirely 
clear.  Psychology  is  the  science  of  those  facts,  phenomena, 
or  experiences  which,  when  we  are  conscious  of  them,  we 
are  conscious  of  as  experiences  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  usual  definition  of  Psychology,  and  what  is  the 
objection  to  it  ? 

2.  Is  the  brain  a  mental  fact ?     Why  not? 

3.  How  do  we  come  to  distinguish  our  bodies  from  the  rest  of  the 
external  world  ? 

4.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  mental  fact  of  which  we  are 
conscious  and  one  of  which  we  are  not  conscious  ? 

5.  Why  is  it  that  we  are  not  conscious  of  some  mental  facts  ? 

6.  State  and  explain  the  definition  of  Psychology. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  When  was  Harvey  born,  and  what  did  he  do  ? 

2.  Descartes  is  called  the  father  of  modern  philosophy;  what  does 
that  mean  ?     When  was  he  born  ? 

3.  Hume  is  called  a  philosophical  skeptic;  what  is  a  philosophical 
skeptic  ? 


LESSON    IX. 

THE    METHOD    OF    PSYCHOLOGY. 

Kinds  of  Mental  Facts  in  which  Psychology  is  Inter- 
ested. —  "  But  in  what  kind  of  mental  facts,"  perhaps  you 
ask,  "  is  Psychology  interested  ?  I  had  the  toothache 
yesterday ;  that,  if  I  understand  you,  was  a  mental  fact ; 
but  Psychology  has  no  interest  in  such  facts,  has  it  ?  "  No 
and  yes.  That  you,  John  Smith,  had  the  toothache  is  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  Psychology.  Psychology  has  no 
more  interest  in  that  fact  than  the  science  of  Botany  has 
in  the  fact  that  you  have  a  bed  of  geraniums.  Like  all 
sciences,  its  aim  is  general  knowledge  ;  and  that  you,  John 
Smith,  had  the  toothache  is  not  general  knowledge  —  it  is 
knowledge  of  an  individual.  But  when  you  had  the  tooth- 
ache, you  found  it  difficult  to  study,  did  you  not  ?  You 
can  doubtless  recall  many  similar  cases  in  your  experience 
—  cases  in  which  severe  pain  interfered  with  that  concen- 
tration of  mind  which  we  call  study.  And  keen  delight 
is  just  as  unfavorable  to  study.  You  received  a  letter 
some  time  ago  that  made  you  very  happy,  so  happy  that 
you  could  not  concentrate  your  mind  on  your  work  for 
an  hour  ;  and  you  find  that  the  experience  of  other  people 
is  like  yours  in  this  regard.  So,  although  Psychology 
cares  nothing  about  your  toothache,  there  is  something 

77 


78  THE    METHOD    OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

in  the  experience  that  it  does  care  about.  So  far  as 
your  experience  illustrates  what  is  true  of  all  minds 
under  similar  circumstances,  so  far  it  is  a  matter  of 
interest  to  Psychology. 

Laws  of  Mind.  —  Or  I  might  say  that  what  Psychology 
especially  seeks  to  ascertain  is  laws  of  mind,  or  of  mental 
facts.  A  law  of  mental  facts  is  a  general  truth  about 
mental  facts  —  something  which  will  be  true,  not  only  in 
all  your  experience,  but  in  the  experience  of  every  one 
under  similar  circumstances.  We  have  just  been  consider- 
ing an  example  of  a  law  of  mental  facts  —  that  intense 
feeling,  whether  of  pleasure  or  pain,  can  not  exist  along 
with  concentration  of  mind  on  another  subject.  That  is  a 
law  of  mental  facts,  because  it  is  true  of  the  experiences  of 
all  men  without  exception.  Since  one  of  the  conditions  of 
concentration  of  thought  —  one  of  the  things  which  makes 
it  possible  —  is  the  absence  of  intense  feeling,  concentra- 
tion of  thought,  on  a  subject  foreign  to  the  feeling,  never 
can  co-exist  with  intense  feeling.  That  is  a  perfectly 
general  proposition,  and,  as  such,  illustrates  a  law  of  the 
mind. 

Evidently,  then,  to  ascertain  laws  of  the  mind,  you  must 
not  only  study  the  facts  of  your  own  experience,  but  those 
of  other  people.  If  you  confine  yourself  to  your  own 
experience,  you  can  not  be  sure  that  your  knowledge  is 
general ;  you  are  liable  to  confuse  a  personal  peculiarity 
with  a  principle  of  human  nature.  Imagine  Andrew  Jack- 
son endeavoring  to  get  a  knowledge  of  human  nature  by 
studying  himself  alone.  If  he  had  taken  himself  as  a  type 
of  men  in  general,  he  would  have  had  very  erroneous  ideas 
of  human  nature. 


INTROSPECTIVE    METHOD.  79 

Introspective  Method.  —  But  can  you  study  the  minds 
of  other  people  in  the  same  way  that  you  can  your  own  ? 
Try  it.  You  often  wish  to  know  whether  your  pupils  are 
attending  to  you,  or  whether  they  understand  you.  Can 
you  find  out,  in  the  same  way,  that  you  know  whether  or 
not  you  are  attending  ?  Plainly  not.  You  know  that  you 
are  attending  simply  by  looking  into  your  own  mind,  and 
you  can  not  look  into  the  mind  of  any  one  else.  The  word 
which  means  looking  into  is  "introspection";  and  the 
adjective  "  introspective  "  seems,  therefore,  to  describe  best 
the  way  or  mode  or  method  in  which  you  study  your  own 
mind.  But  you  can  not  learn  anything  about  the  minds 
of  other  people  in  that  way.  When  you  study  other  people, 
you  notice  their  looks  and  actions.  Many  teachers  think 
they  can  tell  whether  their  pupils  are  attending  to  them 
without  asking  questions.  They  look  or  act  as  though  they 
were  attending,  and  so  the  teachers  who  believe  this  con- 
clude they  are.  Conclude,  I  say.  Note  the  word.  It 
denotes  a  process  of  reasoning.  And  when  we  study  the 
minds  of  others,  we  have  to  do  it  by  processes  of  reason- 
ing —  by  acts  of  inference. 

Inferential  Method.  —  You  do  not  even  know  that 
there  is  any  one  in  the  world  besides  yourself  except  by  a 
process  of  reasoning.  When  you  say  you  see  a  man,  the 
truth  is  that  you  have  sensations  of  color,  and  from  this 
fact  infer  the  presence  of  a  human  being  like  yourself. 
When  you  see  this  human  being  laugh,  you  infer  that  he 
is  amused,  just  as  you  are  conscious  of  being  amused  when 
you  laugh.  All  that  you  learn  of  any  human  being  you 
learn  by  reasoning  —  by  inference.  As,  then,  we  call  the 
method  of  studying  our  own  minds  the  introspective  — 


80  THE    METHOD    OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

since  we  study  them  by  looking  directly  within  — so  we 
may  call  the  method  of  studying  the  minds  of  others  the 
inferential,  since  we  do  it  by  processes  of  inference. 

The  Inferential  Method  and  the  Study  of  History.  — 
Whatever  you  learn  about  the  minds  of  others  —  whether 
you  learn  it  from  what  you  see  them  do,  or  what  you 
read  about  them  —  you  learn  by  means  of  the  inferential 
method.  When  you  learn  how  Washington  exposed  him- 
self when  Braddock's  army  was  routed,  and  at  the  battle 
of  Princeton,  you  infer  that  he  was  brave,  precisely  as  you 
would  have  done  if  you  had  seen  him.  Since  all  the  facts 
of  human  history  relate  to  the  actions  of  men,  they  are 
materials  which  the  inferential  method  uses  to  increase 
our  knowledge  of  human  nature.  When  we  learn,  for 
example,  that  the  ancient  Greeks  left  their  weak  children 
exposed,  in  order  that  they  might  die,  the  inferential 
method  enables  us  to  see  that  Greek  fathers  and  mothers 
did  not  love  their  children  as  fathers  and  mothers  love 
their  children  now,  and  that  they  probably  loved  their 
country  more,  since  a  weak  child  was  considered  of  no 
worth  because  it  gave  no  promise  of  being  able  to  be  of 
service  to  the  State.  When  we  know  that  Aristotle  said 
that  all  that  was  necessary  to  reform  or  relax  the  manners 
of  a  people  was  to  add  one  string  to  the  lyre  or  take  one 
from  it,  the  same  method  enables  us  to  see  that  the  Greeks 
had  a  susceptibility  to  music  of  which  we  can  scarcely 
have  any  idea  to-day.  When  we  know  that  "  those  doughty 
old  mediaeval  knights  despised  the  petty  clerk's  trick  of 
writing,  because,  compared  to  a  life  of  toilsome  and  heroic 
action,  it  seemed  to  them  slavish  and  unmanly,"  we  know 
that  they  looked  upon  a  very  different  world  from  ours  — 


INFERENTIAL   METHOD   AND    MIND    STUDY.         8 1 

a  world  of  different  aims  and  ideals ;  that  the  knowledge 
we  prize  so  highly,  and  toil  so  painfully  to  gain,  was  a  thing 
of  no  value  in  their  eyes.  The  inferential  method  even 
uses  the  relics  of  the  prehistoric  ages  to  add  to  our  knowl- 
edge of  men.  It  takes  the  rough  tools  of  the  cave-dwellers 
and  forces  from  them  a  little  knowledge  of  the  strange 
men  who  used  them. 

Inferential  Method  and  the  Study  of  our  own  Minds. 

—  I  have  said  that  the  introspective  method  is  the  method 
we  use  in  studying  our  own  mental  facts.  That  needs 
qualification.  It  is  possible  for  us  to  study  our  own  minds 
by  means  of  the  inferential  method.  People  often  forget 
their  motives  for  their  actions.  They  say  :  "  I  do  not  know 
how  I  came  to  do  that."  In  such  cases  they  can  learn 
their  motives  only  by  means  of  the  inferential  method, 
precisely  as  though  they  were  other  people  whose  actions 
they  were  considering,  and  which  they  were  trying  to 
account  for.  It  is  doubtless  true,  as  we  shall  see  in  a  later 
chapter,  that  in  many  cases  there  is  no  reason  in  the  sense 
of  conscious  motive.  Some  idea  suggested  the  action,  and 
the  action  was  straightway  performed  in  the  entire  absence 
of  anything  that  can  be  called  reasoning.  Further,  the 
introspective  method  can  only  give  us  individual  facts. 
As  the  bodily  eye  only  sees  isolated  objects,  and  can  not 
connect  them  by  laws,  so  the  eye  of  the  mind  only  sees 
isolated  mental  facts,  and  can  not  connect  them  together 
by  laws.  In  other  words,  we  observe  facts  —  not  laws. 
Laws  are  the  result  of  inference  —  never  of  direct  obser- 
vation. 

The  introspective  and  inferential  methods,  then  —  the 
two  methods  of  studying  mind  —  evidently  sustain  a  close 


,82  THE    METHOD    OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

relation  to  each  other.  You  can,  indeed,  use  the  intro- 
spective method  without  the  inferential,  in  the  mere  collec- 
tion of  facts;  but  you  can  not  use  the  inferential  at  all 
without  the  introspective.  When  you  infer  that  people 
have  such  and  such  mental  facts  under  such  and  such  cir- 
cumstances, it  is  because  you  know  by  introspection  that 
you  have  the  same  mental  facts  under  the  same  circum- 
stances. The  laughter  and  tears  of  others  would  have  no 
meaning  to  you  if  you  had  never  known  amusement  or 
sorrow. 

Difficulties  of  the  Inferential  Method. —  Each  of 
these  methods  has  its  peculiar  difficulties.  The  results 
reached  by  means  of  the  inferential  method  are  always 
more  or  less  uncertain.  If  you  have  ever  made  a  thorough 
study  of  the  history  of  any  great  man,  you  have  doubtless 
had  an  excellent  illustration  of  this.  While  different  his- 
torians generally  agree  substantially  as  to  the  actions  of 
men,  they  differ  very  widely  in  their  interpretations  of 
those  actions.  Federalist  historians,  and  those  who  sym- 
pathize with  them,  usually  regard  Jefferson,  for  example, 
as  a  demagogue,  while  Democratic  historians  regard  him 
as  an  exalted  and  devoted  patriot.  The  reason  of  course 
is  that,  using  the  inferential  method,  the  one  explained  his 
actions  by  one  set  of  mental  facts,  the  other  by  another. 

Illustration.  —  A  passage  in  John  Fiske's  The  Begin- 
nings of  New  England  gives  such  an  excellent  illustration 
of  the  inferential  method  and  its  difficulties  that  it  deserves 
to  be  quoted  at  length  : 

"  It  is  difficult  for  the  civilized  man  and  the  savage  to 
understand  each  other.  As  a  rule,  the  one  does  not  know 


DIFFICULTIES    OF   INTROSPECTIVE    METHOD.        83 

what  the  other  is  thinking  about."  And  then,  speaking  of 
Eliot,  and  what  the  Indians  thought  about  him,  the  author 
goes  on  :  "  His  design  in  founding  his  villages  of  Christian 
Indians  was  in  the  highest  degree  benevolent  and  noble, 
but  the  heathen  Indians  could  hardly  be  expected  to  see 
anything  in  it  but  a  cunning  scheme  for  destroying  them. 
Eliot's  converts  were  for  the  most  part  from  the  Massa- 
chusetts tribe,  the  smallest  and  weakest  of  all.  The 
Plymouth  converts  came  chiefly  from  the  tribe  next  in 
weakness  — the  Pokanokets,  or  Wampanoags.  The  more 
powerful  tribes  —  Narragansetts,  Nipmucks,  and  Mohegans 
—  furnished  very  few  converts.  When  they  saw  the  white 
intruders  gathering  members  of  the  weakest  tribes  into 
villages  of  English  type,  and  teaching  them  strange  gods 
while  clothing  them  in  strange  garments,  they  probably 
supposed  that  the  pale-faces  were  simply  adopting  these 
Indians  into  their  white  tribe  as  a  means  of  increasing 
their  military  strength.  At  any  rate,  such  a  proceeding 
would  be  perfectly  intelligible  to  the  savage  mind,  whereas 
the  nature  of  Eliot's  design  lay  quite  beyond  its  ken.  As 
the  Indians  recovered  from  their  supernatural  dread  of  the 
English,  and  began  to  regard  them  as  using  human  means 
to  accomplish  their  ends,  they  must,  of  course,  interpret 
their  conduct  in  such  light  as  savage  experience  could 
afford.  It  is  one  of  the  commonest  things  in  the  world 
for  a  savage  tribe  to  absorb  weak  neighbors  by  adoption, 
and  thus  increase  its  force  preparatory  to  a  deadly  assault 
upon  other  neighbors." 

Difficulties  of  the  Introspective  Method.  —  The  great 
difficulty  with  the  introspective  method  is  that  a  mental 
fact  vanishes  as  soon  as  you  begin  to  examine  it  introspec- 


84  THE    METHOD    OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

lively.  The  feeling  of  amusement,  of  course,  is  a  mental 
fact.  The  next  time  you  are  amused,  suppose  you  try  to 
analyze  the  feeling.  Some  psychologists  say  that  it  con- 
sists in  part  of  a  feeling  of  superiority.  If  you  make  a 
study  of  your  experience  to  see  whether  they  are  right, 
your  feeling  of  amusement  will  disappear.  Or  suppose 
you  try  to  ascertain  what  sort  of  a  mental  fact  pity  is. 
\Yhen  you  find  yourself  pitying  some  one,  if  you  examine 
your  experience  to  see  what  pity  is,  the  feeling  will  vanish. 
If  the  nature  of  flowers  were  such  that  they  disappeared  the 
moment  one  began  to  observe  them  closely,  the  study  of 
Botany  would  exactly  illustrate  the  difficulty  of  studying 
the  mind  by  means  of  the  introspective  method.  And  as, 
in  such  a  case,  the  botanist  would  have  to  content  himself 
with  observing  his  facts  in  the  dim  light  of  memory,  so 
also  must  the  psychologist.  As  his  facts  disappear  the 
moment  he  begins  to  examine  them,  his  only  resource  is 
to  appeal  to  the  memory  —  his  introspection  becomes 
retrospection. 

Study  of  Children.  —  Of  course  the  minds  that  are  of 
the  most  importance  for  you  as  teachers  to  study  are  the 
minds  of  children,  and  it  is  evident  that  you  must  study 
them  by  means  of  the  inferential  method.  If  you  would 
get  that  knowledge  of  them  that  will  enable  you  to  teach 
them  well,  you  must  note  their  likes  and  dislikes,  their 
amusements,  their  games,  the  books  they  read,  the  mis- 
takes they  make  —  everything,  in  short,  that  may  throw 
light  on  their  minds.  Do  not  rely  on  any  knowledge  of 
the  mind  you  can  get  from  this  or  any  book.  A  good 
book  on  Psychology  is  like  a  guide  in  a  strange  city  — 
useful  chiefly  in  telling  you  where  to  look.  But,  as  a  guide 


QUESTIONS.  85 

is  of  no  service  to  a  man  who  refuses  to  use  his  eyes,  so  a 
writer  on  Psychology  can  be  of  little  use  to  his  readers 
unless  they  constantly  test  his  statements  by  their  own 
experiences  and  by  the  study  of  the  minds  of  those  around 
them.1 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE   TEXT. 

1 .  What  kind  of  mental  facts  constitutes  the  science  of  Psychology  ? 
Illustrate. 

2.  What  is  a  law  of  mental  facts  ?     Illustrate. 

3.  State  and   explain  and  illustrate   the  two  ways  of  studying 
mental  facts. 

4.  Illustrate  how  the  inferential  method  uses  historical  facts  to 
enlarge  our  knowledge  of  mind. 

5.  How  can  you  study  your  own  mind  by  means  of  the  inferential 
method  ? 

6.  Point  out  the  relations  that  exist  between  the  two  methods. 

7.  State  and  illustrate  the  difficulties  of  the  two  methods. 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Are  there  any  mental  facts  which  do  not  form  part  of  the 
science  of  Psychology  ? 

2.  Do  you  know  any  facts  which  indicate  that  there  is  a  difference 
in  the  keenness  of  internal  perception  in  different  people  ? 

3.  If  you  were  a  Turk  or  a  Chinaman,^and  knew  nothing  of  any 
other  people,  how  would  it  influence  your  notion  of  human  nature? 

4.  Is  pity  a  state  of  pleasure  ? 

5.  How  does  the  quotation  from  Fiske  illustrate  the  difficulties  of 
the  inferential  method  ? 


1  For  a  brief  explanation  of  some  varieties  of  the  inferential  method, 
see  Appendix  B. 


LESSON  X. 

NECESSARY  TRUTHS  AND  NECESSARY  BELIEFS. 

WE  would  all  agree  that  Geometry  does  right  to  state 
its  axioms  at  the  beginning.  All  its  demonstrations  depend 
upon 'them,  and  therefore  it  is  proper  that  they  should 
receive  our  attention  at  the  outset. 

What  we  can  Learn  by  Means  of  the  Introspective 
Method.  —  For  similar  reasons  it  is  important  for  us  to 
ascertain  as  clearly  as  possible  what  we  can  learn  by 
means  of  the  introspective  method.  Since  the  introspec- 
tive and  the  inferential  methods  are  the  only  methods  of 
studying  mental  facts,  and  since  the  inferential  is  based 
on  the  introspective,  what  we  learn  by  means  of  the  intro- 
spective method  lies  at  the  foundation  of  our  knowledge 
of  mind.  If  you  were  building  a  house,  you  would  be 
especially  careful  about  the  foundation.  You  would  want 
it  all  strong  and  well  made,  but  you  would  take  particular 
pains  to  see  that  there  was  no  flaw  in  the  foundation.  No 
matter  how  strong  and  fine  and  beautiful  the  rest  of  the 
house  might  be,  you  would  feel  that  if  the  foundation  was 
weak  the  whole  thing  might  come  tumbling  down  about 
you  any  day.  So  it  behooves  us  to  look  carefully  to  the 
foundation  of  our  knowledge  of  mind,  and  therefore  to 
ascertain  precisely  what  kind  of  knowledge  we  have  of  the 

86 


INTROSPECTIVE    METHOD.  87 

facts  known  to  us  through  introspection,  and  what  we  can 
learn  by  means  of  it. 

But  the  knowledge  gained  by  introspection  so  closely 
resembles  another  kind  of  knowledge  that  the  two  are 
liable  to  be  confused,  unless  at  the  outset  the  latter  is 
clearly  explained.  To  this  end  permit  me,  in  imagination, 
to  talk  with  you  about  some  familiar  matters. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  stick  with  but  one  end,  or  a 
white  crow  ? " 

"  No,"  you  answer. 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  that  you  ever  will  ?  " 

"  Possible  to  see  a  white  crow  ?  Certainly  there  is  no 
impossibility  in  that.  I  know  no  reason  why  a  bird  might 
not  exist  like  the  crow  in  every  respect  except  the  color 
of  its  feathers.  But  a  stick  with  one  end  ?  That  is  not 
merely  an  impossibility ;  it  is  an  absurdity.  You  can  not 
even  assert  its  existence." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  think  you  are  mistaken.  '  This  stick 
has  but  one  end.'  Have  I  not  asserted  its  existence  ? " 

"  Apparently,  but  not  really.  You  have  indeed  strung 
a  lot  of  words  together  in  the  form  of  a  sentence  —  a  sen- 
tence to  which  I  have  no  objection  on  the  score  of  gram- 
mar. But  there  is  one  fatal  objection  to  it :  it  does  not 
mean  anything." 

"  Does  not  mean  anything  ?     I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Your  statement  does  not  express  any  action  of  the 
mind.  All  sentences  that  mean  anything  are  expressions 
of  thought.  But  when  you  say,  '  This  stick  has  but  one 
end,'  you  have  simply  used  your  organs  of  speech ;  you 
have  not  thought  anything.  I  might  teach  a  parrot  to  say, 
'  Kant's  arguments  in  defense  of  the  antinomies  of  human 
reason  have  never  been  refuted.'  But  what  would  those 


88  NECESSARY  TRUTHS   AND    BELIEFS. 

words  mean  in  the  mouth  of  a  parrot  ?  Nothing,  and  that 
is  all  you  mean  when  you  assert  the  existence  of  a  one- 
ended  stick." 

"Possibly  I  am  stupid,  but  I  really  do  not  see  why." 
«  For  this  very  simple  reason  :  The  word  '  stick '  means 
a  thing  that  has  two  ends.  When,  therefore,  you  say,  '  This 
stick  has  but  one  end,'  it  is  equivalent  to  saying,  'This 
two-ended  thing  has  but  one  end ;  this  thing,  which  has 
two  ends,  has  but  one  end.'  Now  it  is  easy  enough  to  say 
that,  but  impossible  to  think  it,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  I  see  that  it  is.  A  thing  can  not  have  two  ends  and 
but  one  end  at  the  same  time ;  it  can  not  both  be  and 
not  be." 

Necessary  Truths.  —  This  is  an  example  of  what  meta- 
physicians call  necessary  truths1  —  "a  truth  or  law  the 
opposite  of  which  is  inconceivable,  contradictory,  nonsensi- 
cal, impossible."3  A  little  reflection  will  enable  us  to 
think  of  many  others.  Two  straight  lines  can  not  inclose 
a  space ;  two  -j-  three  =  five ;  these  are  examples  of  neces- 
sary truths  because  the  opposite  of  each  of  them  is  incon- 
ceivable, contradictory,  nonsensical,  impossible.  If  two 
straight  lines  could  inclose  a  space,  they  could  be  straight 
and  crooked  at  the  same  time ;  if  two  -\-  three  could  be 
more  or  less  than  five,  it  could  be  itself  and  not  itself  at 
the  same  time,  which  is  absurd,  contradictory,  impossible. 

To  determine  whether  a  proposition  expresses  a  neces- 
sary truth  or  not,  we  must  see  if  we  can  put  any  meaning 
into  the  proposition  which  contradicts  it.  But  in  apply- 
ing the  test  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  confusing 

1  These  are  sometimes  called  intuitions. 
a  Terrier's  Institutes  of  Metaphysics,  p.  20. 


NECESSARY    BELIEFS.  89 


putting  a  meaning  into  the  subject  and  predicate 
ting  a  meaning  into  the  proposition.  "  This  square  is 
round."  Here  both  subject  and  predicate  bring  up  familiar 
ideas.  But  a  moment's  reflection  enables  us  to  see  that 
the  intelligibleness  of  the  subject  and  predicate  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  the  intelligibleness  of  the  proposition. 
For  if  the  square  is  round,  it  is  itself  and  not  itself  at  the 
same  time,  which  is  unthinkable  and  impossible. 

Necessary  Beliefs.  —  Let  us  now  turn  our  attention  to 
a  class  of  propositions  that,  at  first  sight,  look  very  much 
like  necessary  truths,  but  which,  nevertheless,  are  funda- 
mentally different.  You  go  to  your  room  on  a  cold  winter 
morning  and  begin  to  build  a  fire.  "  Why  do  you  build  a 
fire?"  I  ask.  "Because  it  is  cold."  "  What  makes  you 
think  that  a  fire  will  make  it  warmer  ?  "  "  Because  it  did 
so  yesterday,  and  the  day  before,  and  the  day  before  that 
—  because  it  always  has  done  so  in  the  past."  "But  what 
has  the  past  to  do  with  the  present  and  the  future  ?  How 
do  you  know  that  things  will  behave  in  the  future  as  they 
have  done  in  the  past?"  I  can  not  answer  the  question  ; 
I  do  not  believe  any  one  can.  The  past,  as  Bain  says,  is 
separated  from  the  future  by  a  chasm  which  no  resources 
of  logic  will  ever  enable  us  to  bridge.1 

1  "  The  most  authentic  recollection  gives  only  what  has  been,  some- 
thing that  has  ceased  and  can  concern  us  no  longer.  A  far  more  perilous 
leap  remains,  the  leap  to  the  future.  All  our  interest  is  concentrated  on 
what  is  yet  to  be  ;  the  present  and  the  past  are  of  value  only  as  a  clue  to 
the  events  that  are  to  come. 

"  The  postulate  that  we  are  in  quest  of  must  carry  us  across  the  gulf, 
from  the  experienced  known,  either  present  or  remembered,  to  the  unex- 
perienced and  unknown  —  must  perform  the  leap  of  real  inference.  '  Water 
has  quenched  our  thirst  in  the  past  ;  by  what  assumption  do  we  affirm 


90  NECESSARY  TRUTHS  AND    BELIEFS. 

But  while  we  "can  give  no  reason  or  evidence"  that 
"what  has  been  will  be,"  that  things  will  behave  in  the 
future  as  they  have  done  in  the  past  under  precisely  simi- 
lar circumstances,  the  peculiar  fact  is  that  we  do  not  want 
any.  When  we  know  that  a  thing  has  happened  in  the 
past,  we  are  entirely  sure  that  it  will,  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, in  the  future  —  so  sure  that  we  can  not  help 
believing  it  even  if  we  would. 

Necessity  of  Necessary  Truths  and  Necessary  Beliefs. 
—  This  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  we  may  properly  call 
such  beliefs  necessary  —  the  fact  that  we  can  not  rid  our- 
selves of  them.  But  while  they  share  this  characteristic 
of  inevitableness  or  necessity  with  necessary  truths,  the 
necessity  in  the  two  cases  is  of  a  very  different  character. 
The  necessity  of  necessary  truths  is  a  necessity  of  seeing; 
the  necessity  of  necessary  beliefs  is  a  necessity  of  believ- 
ing. We  know  with  absolute  certainty  that  two  straight 
lines  can  not  inclose  a  space ;  we  believe  with  irresistible 
strength  of  conviction  that  what  has  been  will  be,  under 
similar  circumstances  —  not  that  it  must  be.  We  can  not 
even  think  of  two  straight  lines  inclosing  a  space  ;  we  can 
very  easily  think  of  this  orderly  universe  becoming  a  chaos 
in  which  there  would  be  an  utter  absence  of  law  and  order, 
in  which  combustion  would  be  followed  by  heat  one  day, 
cold  another,  and  so  on.  The  necessity,  then,  of  necessary 
beliefs  is  a  necessity  of  belief,  not  of  knowledge.  We  do 

that  the  same  will  happen  in  the  future  ? '  Experience  does  not  teach  us 
this ;  experience  is  only  what  has  actually  been ;  and  after  ever  so  many 
repetitions  of  a  thing  there  still  remains  the  peril  of  venturing  upon  the 
untrodden  land  of  future  possibility.  « What  has  been  will  be,'  justifies 
the  inference  that  water  will  assuage  thirst  in  after-times.  We  can  give 
no  reason  or  evidence  for  this  uniformity."  —  Bain's  Logic,  p.  671. 


NECESSITY   OF  TRUTHS   AND    BELIEFS.  Ql 

not  know,  strictly  speaking,  that  the  thing  we  believe  so 
firmly  is  true,  but  we  believe  it  with  irresistible  strength 
of  conviction,  notwithstanding. 

Some  of  our  necessary  beliefs  —  for  instance,  the  one 
we  have  been  considering  —  have  another  kind  of  necessity. 
If  we  did  not  assume  that  the  past  would  enable  us  to 
judge  of  the  future,  all  rational  action  would  be  impossible. 
Take  that  belief  from  the  minds  of  men,  and  their  rational 
activities  would  cease  as  suddenly  as  though  they  had 
been  transformed  into  stone.  I  eat  when  I  am  hungry, 
drink  when  I  am  thirsty,  rest  when  I  am  tired  —  do  every- 
thing which  I  do  under  the  influence  of  that  belief  —  so 
far  as  my  actions  have  any  rational  basis.  The  farmer 
sows,  the  mechanic  builds,  the  lawyer  prepares  his  brief, 
the  doctor  writes  his  prescription,  because  each  thinks 
that  a  knowledge  of  the  past  enables  him  to  anticipate 
the  future  more  or  less  accurately. 

The  principle,  then,  that  what  has  been  will  be,  is 
necessary  not  only  in  the  sense  that  we  can  not  get  rid  of 
it,  but  also  in  the  sense  that  we  must  believe  it  in  order  to 
live  in  the  world.  If  a  being  were  born  in  the  world 
destitute  of  the  tendency  or  predisposition  to  accept  the 
past  as  in  some  sense  a  type  of  the  future,  he  would 
necessarily  perish. 

Of  necessary  beliefs  of  this  class  it  is  absurd  to  raise 
the  question  as  to  their  truth.  Though  we  are  not  pre- 
vented from  questioning  them  by  the  very  nature  of  our 
minds  —  as  in  the  case  of  necessary  truths  —  still,  if  we 
must  accept  them  in  order  to  act  and  live,  the  possibility 
of  questioning  them  will  remain  a  bare  possibility. 

But  if  we  have  beliefs  that  are  necessary  in  the  sense 
that  we  can  not  get  rid  of  them,  but  not  in  the  sense  that 


92  NECESSARY  TRUTHS   AND    BELIEFS. 

we  must  accept  them  because  of  their  practical  importance, 
it  is  evident  that  the  question  as  to  their  truth  is  altogether 
in  order.  A  dozen  different  branches  of  science  —  physics, 
chemistry,  physiology,  astronomy,  etc.,  as  well  as  Psychol- 
ogy—  have  shown  us  very  clearly  that  many  of  the  things 
which  seem  to  be  true  —  and  which  continue  to  seem  to 
be  after  we  know  they  are  not  —  are  false.  The  sun  still 
seems  to  rise  and  set,  although  we  know  it  does  not.  To 
call  a  halt  to  investigation,  therefore,  on  the  threshold  of 
necessary  beliefs  of  this  character  would  amount  to  an 
attempt  to  protect  Error  against  the  assaults  of  Truth. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  relation  between  the  introspective  and  inferential 
methods  ? 

2.  Why  is  it  important  for  us  to  learn  what  we  are  conscious  of  ? 

3.  State  the  difference  between  a  necessary  truth  and  a  necessary 
belief. 

4.  Can  you  doubt  a  necessary  belief  ? 

5.  What  are  the  two  classes  of  necessary  beliefs  ? 

6.  Can  you  question  the  truth  of  a  necessary  belief  ? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  in  meaning  between  questions  four  and 
six? 

,     SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Make  as  complete  a  list  as  you  can  of  what  you  regard  as 
necessary  truths. 

2.  What  do  you  suppose  the  phrase,  » entertain  the  idea,"  orig- 
inally meant? 

3-  You  believe  many  things  because,  as  you  say,  you  remember 
them.     Are  the  assertions  of  memory  examples  of  necessary  truths, 
or  necessary  beliefs,  or  neither  ? 

4-  What  does  Bain  mean  by  the  "leap  of  real  inference  "? 


QUESTIONS.  93 

5.  Mention  some  other  necessary  beliefs  besides  the  one  spoken 
of  in  the  lesson. 

6.  Mention  some  that  are  necessary  in  the  sense  that  we  can  not 
help  believing  them,  but  not  necessary  in  the  sense  that  the  nature 
of  the  world  compels  us  to  assume  them. 

7.  Mention  some  things  that  seem  to  us  to  be  true,  although 
science  has  shown  that  they  are  not. 

8.  What  is  meant  by  the  "  uniformity  of  nature  "  ? 


LESSON   XI. 

WHAT  ARE  WE  CONSCIOUS  OF  ? 

THE  object  of  the  last  lesson  was  to  make  clear  the 
distinction  between  necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs. 
I  tried  to  show  that  there  are  truths  that  the  mind  must 
see  when  it  clearly  grasps  the  subject  and  predicate  of  the 
proposition  that  expresses  them.  But  the  mind  by  no 
means  inevitably  sees  all  the  necessary  truths  it  is  capable 
of  seeing,  because  there  are  subjects  and  predicates  that 
are  beyond  its  grasp  at  certain  stages  of  its  development, 
and  others  that  it  might  grasp,  but  which,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  has  not  grasped.  "  Seven  plus  five  makes  twelve  " 
is  a  necessary  truth.  But  the  child  does  not  see  it,  because 
he  can  not  grasp  seven  and  five.  A  necessary  truth,  then, 
is  not  a  truth  that  the  mind  must  see,  but.  one  which, 
when  seen,  is  seen  to  be  necessary. 

Necessary  beliefs  resemble  necessary  truths  in  that  we 
are  not  only  willing,  but,  in  a  measure,  forced  to  believe 
them,  in  the  absence  of  reason  and  evidence.  Indeed,  we 
are  certain  both  of  necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs ; 
but  our  certainty  differs  widely  in  the  two  cases.  In  the 
one,  it  is  a  certainty  of  knowledge ;  in  the  other,  of  belief. 
Moreover,  the  necessity  of  necessary  beliefs,  unlike  that 
of  necessary  truths,  is  not  in  all  cases  absolutely  unyield- 
ing in  its  nature.  When  we  look  through  an  opera-glass 

94 


NATURE  OF  NECESSARY  TRUTHS.        95 

we  can  not  help  seeming  to  see  the  object  much  nearer 
than  it  really  is.  Such  irresistible  "seemings"  we  call 
beliefs  until,  we  learn  that  they  are  false,  but  no  longer. 
This  is  one  of  a  multitude  of  instances  in  which  what 
seems  to  be  true  is  directly  opposed  to  what  we  know  to 
be  true.  It  would  appear,  therefore,  only  a  matter  of  com- 
mon prudence  to  accept  as  true  only  those  necessary 
beliefs  which  we  can  not  get  along  without. 

Reasons  for  Studying  the  Nature  of  Necessary 
Truths.  —  Necessary  truths,  necessary  beliefs,  and  what 
we  are  conscious  of,  then,  constitute  the  foundation  of 
everything  we  know  and  believe,  not  only  about  mind, 
but  about  the  world  in  general.  Now  that  we  know  what 
necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs  are,  it  will  be  com- 
paratively easy  for  us  to  determine  the  kind  of  knowledge 
that  consciousness  is,  and  the  kinds  of  facts  of  which  we 
are  conscious.  If  we  had  attempted  to  learn  what  con- 
sciousness is  before  making  a  study  of  necessary  truths, 
there  would  have  been  great  danger  of  our  confusing  the 
knowledge  of  the  facts  that  we  are  conscious  of,  with  the 
knowledge  of  necessary  truths. 

Nature  of  Conscious  Knowledge.  —  Let  us  first  try  to 
ascertain  what  that  kind  of  knowledge  is  that  we  call  con- 
scious knowledge.  For  to  ask  what  kind  of  facts  we  are 
conscious  of  is  to  ask  what  we  know  in  precisely  the  same 
way,  with  the  same  kind  and  degree  of  certainty,  that  we 
do  the  facts  which  every  one  admits  we  are  conscious  of. 
Every  one  admits  that  we  are  conscious  of  the  mental 
facts  we  know  by  introspection.  Evidently,  in  order  to 
learn  whether  we  are  conscious  of  anything  else,  we  need 


96  WHAT   ARE  WE    CONSCIOUS    OF? 

to  learn  whether  we  know  anything  else  in  the  same  way, 
and  with  the  same  kind  and  degree  of  certainty ;  we  need 
to  learn  whether  our  knowledge  of  any  other  facts  has  the 
same  characteristics  as  our  knowledge  of  mental  facts. 
When  Columbus  first  came  to  this  country,  if  he  had  been 
told  that  certain  animals  that  he  saw  were  buffaloes,  he 
would  have  had  to  learn  their  characteristics  in  order  to 
be  able  to  recognize  buffaloes  when  he  saw  them  again. 
Knowing  their  characteristics,  he  would  have  been  able  to 
recognize  a  buffalo  as  easily  as  a  horse  or  dog.  In  like 
manner,  since  we  are  conscious  of  those  facts  which  we 
have  agreed  to  call  mental  facts,  we  have  to  learn  the 
characteristics  of  our  knowledge  of  mental  facts,  in  order 
to  learn  whether  we  are  conscious  of  anything  else.  For 
if  our  knowledge  of  anything  else  has  the  same  character- 
istics as  our  conscious  knowledge,  it  also  must  be  conscious 
knowledge.  What,  then,  are  the  characteristics  of  the 
kind  of  knowledge  that  every  one  admits  to  be  conscious 
knowledge  ? 

Have  you  ever  been  in  pain  ?  Suppose  that,  while  you 
were  writhing  in  agony,  some  one  had  asked  you  if  you 
were  sure  you  had  any  pain.  How  do  you  think  you 
would  have  answered  the  question  —  if,  indeed,  you  had 
possessed  the  patience  to  answer  it  at  all  ?  You  would 
have  said,  I  think,  that  your  certainty  was  so  great  that  it 
could  be  no  greater.  Put  so  much  water  into  a  glass,  and 
not  another  drop,  not  an  atom  more  can  you  make  it  hold. 
So,  you  would  have  said,  certainty  beyond  or  greater  than 
yours  it  was  impossible  for  any  conscious  being  to  have. 
"  But  may  you  not  be  deceived  —  may  not  your  pain  be  a 
mere  illusion,  like  the  experiences  of  your  dreams  ?  "  your 
questioner  might  have  asked.  «  Deceived  as  to  being  in 


DIFFERENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE.          97 

pain,  when  I  am  literally  writhing  in  agony  ?  No  !  I  know 
it  so  absolutely  that  I  know  that  I  can  not  be  mistaken. 
There  is  much  that  I  believe  that  I  realize  I  may  be  mis- 
taken in.  But  this  is  certainty  —  certainty  that  admits  of 
no  doubt- — certainty  that  makes  doubt  an  absurdity  and 
an  impossibility."  Conscious  knowledge,  then,  is  abso- 
lutely certain  knowledge  —  knowledge  so  certain  as  to 
make  doubt  an  absurdity  and  an  impossibility. 

Difference  between  Knowledge  of  Necessary  Truths 
and  Conscious  Knowledge.  —  But  this,  we  have  seen,  is 
exactly  what  the  knowledge  of  necessary  truths  is.  We 
know  that  two  straight  lines  can  not  inclose  a  space  so 
certainly  as  to  make  doubt  an  absurdity  and  an  impos- 
sibility. Is  there  no  difference  between  the  knowledge  of 
necessary  truths  and  conscious  knowledge  ? 

If  we  compare  the  attitude  of  our  minds  towards  a 
necessary  truth  with  its  attitude  towards  a  mental  fact, 
I  think  we  shall  see  a  difference.  Two  straight  lines  can 
not  inclose  a  space.  Where  ?  In  England,  on  the  sun, 
wherever  straight  lines  are,  we  know  that  they  can  not 
inclose  a  space.  Our  knowledge  is  not  of  an  individual 
fact,  with  which  the  mind  seems  face  to  face,  but  of  an 
entire  class  of  facts,  wherever  they  may  exist.  But  our 
knowledge  of  a  pain,  for  example,  although  it  is  like  our 
knowledge  of  a  necessary  truth  in  the  kind  and  degree  of 
certainty  that  it  gives  us,  differs  from  it  in  being  knowledge 
of  an  individual  fact  with  which  the  mind  seems  face  to 
face  —  of  which  the  mind  seems  directly  aware. 

Conscious  knowledge,  then,  is  absolutely  certain  knowl- 
edge of  individual  facts  of  which  the  mind  seems  directly 
aware.  Instead,  then,  of  asking  whether  there  are  any 


98  WHAT  ARE   WE    CONSCIOUS    OF  ? 

facts  except  mental  facts  that  we  are  conscious  of,  we  can 
put  the  question  in  this  form  :  Are  there  any  facts  except 
mental  facts  with  which  the  mind  seems  face  to  face,  and 
which  we  know  with  such  absolute  certainty  as  to  make 
doubt  an  absurdity  and  an  impossibility  ? 

Are  you  Conscious  of  the  Stars?  —  Perhaps,  some 
evening  shortly  after  reading  this  lesson,  you  will  take  a 
walk.  As  you  glance  at  the  stars  shining  so  brightly 
above  you,  you  think  of  the  subject  of  the  lesson,  and  ask 
yourself  if  you  really  are  conscious  of  them.  Do  you,  as 
you  see  those  little  twinkling  points  of  light  in  the  heavens 
above  you,  know  that  they  exist,  so  certainly,  so  absolutely, 
as  to  make  doubt  an  impossibility  ? 

The  fixed  stars,  as  we  know,  are  almost  inconceivably 
far  away.  They  are  so  far  away  that  astronomers  never 
think  of  stating  their  distance  in  miles.  Instead  of  telling 
us  their  distance  in  miles,  they  tell  us  how  long  it  takes 
light  to  travel  from  them  to  us.  Now,  light  travels  about 
180,000  miles  in  a  second,  and  the  nearest  of  the  fixed 
stars  is  so  far  away  that  it  takes  light  three  years  to  come 
from  it  to  us.  Suppose,  then,  that  the  nearest  fixed  star 
had  been  destroyed  two  years  and  a  half  ago.  Would  you 
see  it  to-night  ?  Certainly,  just  as  you  see  any  other  star ; 
for  the  light  that  strikes  your  eyes  as  you  look  at  it  left  it 
two  years  and  a  half  ago  —  six  months  before  it  was 
destroyed.  And  for  the  same  reason  you  would  see  it 
to-morrow  night,  and  the  next,  and  so  on  for  six  months. 
Night  after  night  for  six  months  you  would  see  the  star 
shining  above  you,  although  it  did  not  exist  at  all.  When, 
then,  I  ask  if  you  know  that  the  stars  exist  as  you  look  at 
them,  evidently  the  most  you  can  say  is  that  they  do, 


THE    OBJECTS   ABOUT   YOU.  99 

unless  they  have  been  destroyed  since  the  light  left  them 
by  which  you  now  see  them.  But  if  that  is  your  answer, 
you  can  not  say  that  you  know  that  they  exist  so  absolutely 
as  to  make  doubt  an  impossibility,  for  you  do  not  know 
that  they  have  not  been  destroyed  since  the  light  left  them 
which  enables  you  to  see  them.  Therefore  you  are  not 
conscious  of  them. 

Are  you  Conscious  of  the  Objects  about  you  ?  — 

"  But  at  any  rate,"  perhaps  you  will  say,  "  I  am  conscious 
of  the  objects  about  me.  I  take  a  walk,  and  I  see  the 
beautiful  bouquets  of  autumn  adorning  the  hill-sides.  I  see 
the  fields  stretching  out  before  me,  and  here  and  there  a 
farmer  busy  at  work.  As  I  mark  how  the  leaves  of  the 
hedge  were  nipped  by  last  night's  frost,  a  rabbit  suddenly 
leaps  from  under  my  feet,  and  I  wish  for  my  gun  as  he 
fairly  flies  away  from  me.  Surely,"  you  will  say,  "you 
will  admit  that  I  am  conscious  of  these  things." 

Are  you  ?  Put  the  question  to  yourself.  Ask  yourself 
if  you  know  that  these  things  exist  so  absohitely  that  doubt 
is  an  impossibility.  Do  you  like  hunting  ?  If  so,  I  am 
sure  you  have  dreamed  of  standing  behind  a  trusty  pointer, 
gun  in  hand,  ready  to  take  the  first  quail  that  made  its 
appearance  above  the  weeds.  And  while  you  are  in  the 
midst  of  your  excitement  you  awake  perhaps  to  find  that 
you  have  neither  dog  nor  gun  —  to  find  that  you  have  been 
hunting  only  in  a  dream.  "  What  of  it  ? "  you  ask.  This : 
A  certainty  quite  as  great  as  —  indeed  indistinguishable 
from  —  your  waking  certainties  proved  untrustworthy ; 
may  not  your  waking  certainties  be  unreliable  ?  You  will 
not,  of  course,  imagine  that  I  doubt  that  I  see  and  hear 
the  various  things  which  I  seem  to  see  and  hear,  or  that 


I00  WHAT  ARE   WE    CONSCIOUS    OF? 

I  am  trying  to  make  you  doubt  them.  I  am  simply  trying 
to  show  that  you  do  not  know  them  with  the  same  absolute 
certainty  that  you  do  the  mental  facts  of  your  experience, 
and  that,  therefore,  you  are  not  conscious  of  them. 

Strongest  Argument  that  we  are  not  Conscious  of 
External  Objects.  —  But  these  arguments,  conclusive  as 
they  seem  to  me,  are  not  the  considerations  which  are 
entitled  to  most  weight.  Simply  by  looking  into  my  own 
mind,  I  know  that  I  do  not  know  the  existence  of  the 
objects  about  me  with  the  same  kind  and  degree  of  cer- 
tainty that  I  do  the  mental  facts  I  am  conscious  of,  and 
therefore  I  know  that  I  am  not  conscious  of  them. 

Look  carefully  into  your  experience,  and  you  will  see 
that  the  only  facts  which  you  know  with  absolute  certainty 
are  the  facts  of  your  own  mental  life.  You  will  need  no 
arguments  to  prove  that  you  can  not  have  absolute  knowl- 
edge of  any  other  individual  facts  —  you  will  see  that  you 
do  not  so  clearly  as  to  make  argument  superfluous.  But 
if  you  do  not,  permit  me  to  ask  you  to  hold  your  judgment 
in  suspense  until  you  have  had  more  experience  in  the 
study  of  mental  facts.  You  would  take  the  opinion  of  a 
sailor  as  to  the  character  of  a  distant  object  at  sea  in 
preference  to  your  own,  simply  because  of  his  more  ex- 
tended experience.  Inasmuch  as  trained  psychologists, 
almost  without  exception,  contend  that  we  are  not  con- 
scious of  the  objects  about  us,  I  ask  you  to  hold  your  judg- 
ment in  suspense  until  you  have  studied  the  subject  long 
enough  to  give  you  a  right  to  an  opinion. 

Not  Conscious  of  our  own  Bodies.  —  It  seems  to  me 
equally  clear  that  we  are  not  conscious  of  our  own  bodies. 


QUESTIONS.  IOI 

A  man  with  an  amputated  limb  often  feels  pain  in  the 
amputated  member,  exactly  as  he  does  in  any  other  part 
of  the  body.  But  he  can  not  be  conscious  of  the  ampu- 
tated limb.  You  admit  that.  You  admit  that  a  man  can 
not  be  conscious  of  a  leg  that  has  been  buried  for  months. 
Well,  if  he  seems  to  be  conscious  of  the  amputated  mem- 
ber and  is  not,  he  has  no  reason  to  believe  that  he  is  con- 
scious of  a  member  that  is  not  amputated  because  he  seems 
to  be. 

I  think  we  may  conclude,  therefore,  that  we  know  no 
other  individual  facts  with  the  same  kind  and  degree  of 
certainty  that  we  do  the  facts  of  which  we  are  conscious ; 
and  that,  therefore,  we  are  conscious  of  nothing  else. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  foundation  of  all  we  know  and  believe? 

2.  What  is  the  difference  between  our  knowledge  of  a  necessary 
truth  and  our  knowledge  of  a  mental  fact  ? 

3.  Are  you  conscious  of  the  stars  ?     Of  the  objects  about  you  ? 
Of  your  own  body  ? 

4.  Give  your  reasons  for  your  answers. 

5.  If  you  believe  that  you  are  not  conscious  of  anything  except 
mental  facts,  state  what  you  regard  as  the  strongest  reason  for  your 
opinion. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1 .  Give  examples  of  necessary  truths  that  are  beyond  the  grasp 
of  a  savage. 

2.  How  do  you  account  for  the  effect  of  looking  at  an  object 
through  an  opera-glass  ? 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  real  pain  and  imaginary  pain  ? 


IO2  WHAT   ARE   WE    CONSCIOUS    OF? 

4.  "  In  this  wonder-world  a  dream  is 

Our  whole  life  and  all  its  changes, 
All  we  seem  to  be  and  do 
Is  a  dream  and  fancy  too. 
Briefly,  on  this  earthen  ball 
Dreaming  that  we're  living  all." 
What  part  of  these  assertions  do  you  know  to  be  false  ? 

5.  How  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  a  man  often  feels  pain 
in  an  amputated  limb  ? 


LESSON    XII. 

ATTENTION. 

Sensation  and  Attention. — We  have  seen  that  conscious 
knowledge  is  that  knowledge  which  we  have  of  those  men- 
tal facts  which  we  know  directly.  We  have  learned  also 
that  there  are  mental  facts  of  which  we  are  not  conscious. 
You  remember  the  example  —  a  student  intent  upon  a 
book  and  not  hearing  the  clock  strike  till  a  moment  after. 
What  is  the  explanation  of  such  facts  ?  The  attention  of 
the  student  was  so  fixed  upon  this  book  —  his  entire  con- 
sciousness was  so  concentrated  upon  it  —  that  there  was  no 
consciousness  left  for  the  sensation.  Thus  the  sensations 
of  which  vve  are  conscious  depend  tipon  attention.  In  his 
Mental  Physiology,  Carpenter  gives  some  remarkable 
examples  of  this.  For  instance  :  "  Before  the  introduction 
of  chloroform,  patients  sometimes  went  through  severe 
operations  without  giving  any  sign  of  pain,  and  afterwards 
declared  that  they  felt  none :  having  concentrated  their 
thoughts,  by  a  powerful  effort  of  abstraction,  on  some 
subject  which  held  them  engaged  throughout."  "The 
writer  has  frequently  begun  a  lecture,  whilst  suffering 
neuralgic  pain  so  severe  as  to  make  him  apprehend  that 
he  would  find  it  impossible  to  proceed  ;  yet  no  sooner  has 
he,  by  a  determined  effort,  fairly  launched  himself  into 
the  stream  of  thought  than  he  has  found  himself  continu- 

103 


IO4  ATTENTION. 

ously  borne  along  without  the  least  distraction  until  the 
end  has  come,  and  the  attention  has  been  released  ;  when 
the  pain  has  recurred  with  a  force  that  has  overmastered 
all  resistance,  making  him  wonder  how  he  could  have  ever 
ceased  to  feel  it."  A  similar  experience  in  the  case  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott  is  thus  recorded  by  his  biographer :  "  John 
Ballantyne  (whom  Scott,  while  suffering  under  a  prolonged 
and  painful  illness,  employed  as  his  amanuensis)  told  me 
that,  though  Scott  often  turned  himself  on  his  pillow  with 
a  groan  of  torment,  he  usually  continued  the  sentence  in 
the  same  breath.  But  when  dialogue  of  peculiar  animation 
was  in  progress,  spirit  seemed  to  triumph  altogether  over 
matter  —  he  arose  from  his  couch,  and  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  raising  and  lowering  his  voice,  and,  as  it 
were,  acting  the  parts.  It  was  in  this  fashion  that  Scott 
produced  the  far  greater  portion  of  the  Bride  of  Lammer- 
inoor,  the  whole  of  the  Legend  of  Montr  ose,  and  almost 
the  whole  of  Ivan  hoc." 

Perception  and  Attention.  —  What  we  perceive  depends 
upon  attention.  Let  a  botanist  and  a  geologist  take  the 
same  walk  —  and  the  botanist  will  see  the  flowers,  and 
the  geologist  the  rocks,  because  each  sees  what  he  attends 
to.  The  next  time  you  take  a  walk  go  along  the  most 
familiar  road  in  your  neighborhood,  and  see  if  you  can  not 
discover  something  new  to  you  —  some  tree  or  shed  that 
has  been  there  all  the  time.  I  have  often  had  that  expe- 
rience. The  reason  is  that  these  unperceived  objects  were 
not  attended  to. 

Memory  and  Attention.— What  we  remember  depends 
upon  what  we  attend  to.  Have  you  ever  thought  of  it  ? 


RECOLLECTION  AND  ATTENTION.        1 05 

Most  of  our  past  lives  is  a  perfect  Sahara  of  forgetfulness 
—  blank,  bleak,  barren  —  swallowed  up  in  oblivion.  But 
here  and  there  gleam  little  green  spots  of  memory,  little 
oases  in  the  midst  of  the  mighty  desert  of  the  past.  How 
is  this?  The  things  which  we  remember  are  the  things 
which  we  attend  to.  Talk  to  an  old  man  about  his  past 
life,  and  you  will  find  that  the  events  of  the  last  year  he 
but  dimly  remembers ;  but  when  he  speaks  of  his  boy- 
hood, the  incidents  of  the  time  crowd  themselves  upon 
him  as  though  they  had  happened  but  yesterday.  In 
that  far-off  happy  time,  when  his  heart  was  light  and  his 
mind  was  free  from  care,  the  most  trivial  events  received 
a  degree  of  attention  sufficient  to  stamp  them  on  his 
memory  forever. 

Recollection  and  Attention.  —  What  we  recollect 
depends  upon  what  we  attend  to.  (Recollecting  is  remem- 
bering by  an  effort  of  will.  All  recollecting  is  remember- 
ing, but  all  remembering  is  not  recollecting.  Recollecting 
is  a  kind  of  remembering.)  What  do  you  do  when  you 
try  to  recall  the  name  of  a  friend  which  has  slipped  your 
memory  for  the  moment  ?  You  think  of  —  attend  to  the 
thought  of  —  how  he  looks,  of  his  dress,  of  some  peculiarity 
in  his  manner,  of  the  first  letter  of  his  name,  of  some  place 
where  you  saw  him,  of  something  connected  with  him  — 
until,  by  and  by,  his  name  flashes  into  your  mind.  All 
you  did,  you  notice,  was  to  attend  to  certain  thoughts  in 
your  mind. 

Reasoning  and  Attention.  —  What  conclusions  you 
reach  depends  upon  what  you  attend  to.  To  Newton, 
sitting  in  his  garden,  the  fall  of  an  apple  suggested  the 


I06  ATTENTION. 

law  of  gravitation.  Why  ?  Because  he  fixed  his  attention 
upon  the  resemblance  between  the  fall  of  the  apple  from 
the  tree  and  the  revolution  of  the  moon  around  the  earth. 
The  chief  difference  between  the  man  of  great  reasoning 
powers  and  the  ordinary  man  is  that  the  former  notices 
remote  resemblances — resemblances  that  escape  the  atten- 
tion of  the  latter. 

Feeling  and  Attention.  —  What  we  feel  depends  upon 
attention.  The  same  author  already  quoted  from  (Car- 
penter) gives  some  remarkable  illustrations  of  this  :  The 
celebrated  German  mathematician,  Gauss,  while  engaged 
in  one  of  his  most  profound  investigations,  was  interrupted 
by  a  servant,  who  told  him  that  his  wife  (to  whom  he  was 
known  to  be  deeply  attached,  and  who  was  suffering  from 
a  severe  illness)  was  worse.  "  He  seemed  to  hear  what 
was  said,  but  either  he  did  not  comprehend  it  or  imme- 
diately forgot  it,  and  went  on  with  his  work.  After  some 
little  time,  the  servant  came  again  to  say  that  his  mistress 
was  much  worse,  and  to  beg  that  he  would  come  to  her  at 
once  ;  to  which  he  replied  :  '  I  will  come  presently.'  Again 
he  relapsed  into  his  previous  train  of  thought,  entirely  for- 
getting the  intention  he  had  expressed,  most  probably 
without  having  distinctly  realized  to  himself  the  import 
either  of  the  communication  or  of  his  answer  to  it.  For 
not  long  afterwards  when  the  servant  came  again  and 
assured  him  that  his  mistress  was  dying,  and  that  if  he  did 
not  come  immediately  he  would  probably  not  find  her 
alive,  he  lifted  up  his  head  and  calmly  replied  :  '  Tell  her 
to  wait  until  I  come '  -  -  a  message  he  had  doubtless  often 
before  sent  when  pressed  by  his  wife's  request  for  his 
presence  while  he  was  similarly  engaged." 


VOLITION    AND   ATTENTION.  107 

Volition  and  Attention.  —  What  we  will  likewise  de- 
pends upon  attention.  Suppose  a  boy  has  a  lesson  to  get, 
and  another  boy  invites  him  to  go  fishing.  Will  he  go  or 
will  he  stay  and  get  his  lesson  ?  That  depends  on  what 
he  attends  to.  If  he  allows  his  mind  to  dwell  on  the  fun 
he  will  have,  if  he  does  not  permit  himself  to  think  of  the 
consequences  of  neglecting  his  work,  he  will  go.  But  if 
he  keeps  his  mind  firmly  fixed  on  the  consequences ;  if  he 
vividly  realizes  the  displeasure  of  his  parents,  the  disappro- 
bation of  his  teacher,  the  probability  of  losing  his  place  in 
his  class,  he  will  stay. 

Importance  of  the  Part  Played  by  Attention  in  our 
Mental  Life.  —  This  brief  survey  will  enable  us  to  form 
some  idea  of  the  importance  of  the  part  which  attention 
plays  in  our  mental  life.  I  think  you  see  that  the  chief 
difference  between  the  educated  and  the  uneducated  man 
is  the  greater  capacity  of  the  former  for  close,  continuous, 
concentrated  attention.  Some  writers  indeed  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  say  that  genius  depends  entirely  on  the  power 
to  concentrate  the  attention.  Newton  thought  that  the 
sole  difference  between  himself  and  ordinary  men  consisted 
in  his  greater  power  of  attention.  This,  I  think,  is  an 
exaggeration.  But  however  this  may  be,  I  think  that  the 
importance  of  training  the  attention  can  scarcely  be  over- 
estimated. 

Training  of  Attention.  —  How  can  we  train  the  atten- 
tion of  our  pupils  ?  Precisely  as  we  cultivate  any  other 
power  of  their  minds  —  by  getting  them  to  attend.  Our 
pupils  learn  to  observe  by  observing,  and  to  think  by 
thinking,  and  to  attend  by  attending.  We  never  make 


IO8  ATTENTION. 

the  mistake  of  assuming  that  our  pupils  have  a  high 
degree  of  reasoning  power  when  they  first  go  to  school, 
that  they  are  capable  of  solving  difficult  problems  in 
arithmetic,  or  understanding  abstract  statements  in  gram- 
mar ;  and  it  is  just  as  absurd  for  us  to  suppose  that 
they  are  capable  of  continuous  attention,  and  yet  we 
are  prone  to  do  that.  "Because  people  are  attentive 
when  strong  interest  is  roused"  —  says  Edward  Thring 
—  "there  is  a  common  idea  that  attention  is  natural, 
and  inattention  a  culpable  fault.  But  the  boy's  mind  is 
much  like  a  frolicking  puppy,  always  in  motion,  restless, 
but  never  in  the  same  position  two  minutes  together,  when 
really  awake.  Naturally  his  body  partakes  of  this  unsettled 
character.  Attention  is  a  lesson  to  be  learned,  and  quite 
as  much  a  matter  of  training  as  any  other  lesson.  A  teacher 
will  be  saved  much  useless  friction  if  he  acknowledges  this 
fact,  and  instead  of  expecting  attention  which  he  will  not 
get,  starts  at  once  with  the  intention  of  teaching  it."  How 
can  he  teach  it  ?  That  question  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance for  us  to  be  able  to  answer. 


QUESTIONS    ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Show  (a)  that  the  sensations  of  which  we  are  conscious  depend 
upon  attention ;  (b)  that  what  we  perceive  depends  upon  attention ; 
(c)  that  what  we  remember  depends  upon  attention ;  (cf)  that  what 
we  recollect  depends  upon  attention ;  (e)  that  what  we  believe  de- 
pends upon  attention ;  (/)  that  what  we  feel  depends  upon  attention ; 
(g)  that  what  we  will  depends  upon  attention. 

2.  Illustrate  your  answers  from  your  own  experience. 

3.  Illustrate  the  difference  between  remembering  and  recollecting. 

4.  How  is  the  power  of  attention  to  be  acquired  ? 


QUESTIONS.  IO9 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  "The  botanist  sees  much  in  a  plant;    the  horse-dealer  in  a 
horse ;    the  musician  hears  much  in  a  piece  of  orchestral  music,  of 
whose  presence  in  the  sense-perception  the  layman  has  no  idea. 
From  the  same  story  each  hearer  interprets  something  different;  out 
of  the  same  laws  each  party  interprets  its  right;  the  same  turn  of 
battle  is  proclaimed  by  both  armies  as  a  victory ;  out  of  the  same 
book  of  nature  the  different  readers,  men  and  people,  have  gathered 
the  most  diverse  things."     (Volkmann.)      How  would  you  explain 
these  facts  ? 

2.  Account  for  the  truth  embodied  in  the  proverb,  "There  are 
none  so  blind  as  those  that  won't  see." 

3.  Account  for  the  use  of  mind  in  the  following  sentence :  "  I 
can't  put  my  mind  on  anything  to-day." 


LESSON   XIII. 

ATTENTION. 
(Continued.] 

IN  the  last  lesson  I  tried  to  make  it  clear  that  our  entire 
mental  life  is  controlled  by  attention,  in  order  that  we  may 
realize  that  the  beginning  of  teaching  is  getting  the  atten- 
tion of  our  pupils,  and  that  the  end  of  education  is  the 
developing  of  powers  of  attention,  and  directing  those 
powers  into  right  channels.  An  inattentive  mind  is  an 
absent  mind ;  and,  as  Thring  remarks,  a  teacher  "  might 
as  well  stand  up  and  solemnly  set  about  giving  a  lesson  to 
the  clothes  of  the  class,  whilst  the  owners  were  playing 
cricket,  as  to  the  so-called  class  "  if  they  were  inattentive. 
Moreover,  as  the  character  of  the  mind  depends  upon  the 
things  it  attends  to  and  the  manner  in  which  it  attends  to 
them,  evidently  the  object  of  education  is  to  develop  the 
power  of  attending  to  the  right  things  in  the  right  way. 

Definition  of  Attention.  —  But  what  is  attention  ? 
When  you  are  reading  an  interesting  book,  you  are  scarcely 
conscious,  if  at  all,  of  the  sensations  of  pressure  produced 
by  your  chair ;  carriages  and  wagons  are  clattering  along 
the  street,  but  you  do  not  note  them ;  various  objects  are 
directly  before  you,  but  you  do  not  see  them.  Indeed,  you 
are  but  dimly  conscious  of  the  sensations  produced  by  the 
very  type  of  the  book  you  are  reading.  But  the  thoughts 

no 


TWO    KINDS    OF  ATTENTION.  I  I  I 

called  to  your  mind  by  your  book  stand  out  clearly  and 
conspicuously  in  your  consciousness  —  every  feature,  as  it 
were,  sharply  denned.  The  act  of  the  mind  by  which 
certain  facts  in  our  experience  are  thus  emphasized  and 
made  prominent  is  called  attention.  Attention,  then,  may 
be  defined  as  that  act  of  the  mind  by  which  we  bring  into 
clear  consciousness  any  subject  or  object  before  the  mind. 
When  you  say  to  your  pupils,  "  Give  me  your  attention," 
you  mean  that  you  want  them  to  stop  thinking  of  the 
game  they  played  at  recess,  of  the  book  they  read  last 
night,  of  everything  except  what  you  are  saying.1 

Two  Kinds  of  Attention.  —  Making  another  study  of 
our  experience,  we  find  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  atten- 
tion. You  are  reading  a  difficult  and  not  very  interesting 
book,  when  some  one  in  the  next  room  begins  to  sing  your 
favorite  song.  You  do  your  best  to  keep  your  attention 
on  your  book,  but  your  mind  wanders  to  the  song  in  spite 
of  you.  Or  you  go  to  a  lecture  just  after  reading  a  letter 
that  contained  some  very  good  news.  You  try  to  listen  to 
the  lecture,  but  the  thought  of  the  letter  persists  in  drag- 
ging your  mind  away.  In  both  these  cases  you  are  con- 

1  "  Clear  consciousness  may  be  thought  as  the  circle  of  those  concepts  " 
—  experiences  —  "upon  which  attention  rests.  Experience  shows  us  that 
this  circle,  like  the  pupil  of  the  eye,  can  be  extended  or  contracted  within 
certain  rather  wide  limits.  The  greatest  narrowing  occurs  when  we  con- 
centrate our  attention  upon  a  single  object  —  as,  for  example,  when  we 
become  absorbed  in  thought,  or  narrowly  observe  an  outward  phenom- 
enon ;  the  greatest  extension  takes  place  when  we  widen  the  bounds  of 
the  narrow  consciousness  to  its  greatest  extent,  in  which  case  there  would 
be  really  no  concentration  of  mind  and  no  attention.  It  is  apparent  that 
the  width  of  the  circle  is  indirectly  proportioned  to  the  clearness  of  its 
single  points  —  i.e.,  that  our  attention  is  so  much  the  less  intensive  the 
more  extensive  it  is."  —  Lindner's  Psychology,  p.  13. 


112  ATTENTION. 

scious  of  two  very  different  kinds  of  attention  —  attention 
depending  upon  the  will,  or  voluntary  attention,  and  atten- 
tion independent  of  the  will,  or  non-voluntary  attention. 

We  can  see  the  difference  between  them  more  clearly, 
perhaps,  if  we  bear  in  mind  that,  in  the  case  of  non-volun- 
tary attention,  there  is  but  one  thing  that  influences  the 
mind  —  the  thing  attended  to  ;  while  in  voluntary  attention 
there  are  two  —  the  thing  attended  to  and  some  reason  or 
motive  for  attending  to  it.  When  you  listen  to  a  song 
simply  because  you  like  it,  you  attend  involuntarily ;  when 
you  keep  your  mind  fixed  upon  a  book  by  an  effort  of  will, 
you  attend  voluntarily.  In  the  first  case,  there  are  but 
two  things  concerned  —  your  mind  and  the  song ;  in  the 
second,  there  are  three  —  your  mind  and  the  book,  and 
some  reason  or  motive  for  attending  to  it.  In  the  first 
case,  you  attend  because  of  the  attraction  which  the  song 
has  for  your  mind  directly;  in  the  second,  you  attend  not 
because  of  any  attraction  which  the  book  has  for  your 
mind,  but  because  of  its  relation  to  something  else  that 
attracts  you  directly,  as  the  desire  to  improve.  Non-volun- 
tary attention,  then,  is  that  attention  which  results  from 
the  influence  exerted  upon  the  mind  by  the  thing  attended 
to,  in  and  of  itself;  voluntary  attention  is  that  which 
results  from  the  influence  exerted  upon  the  mind,  not  by 
the  thing  attended  to,  but  by  the  knowledge  of  its  relation 
to  something  else  that  attracts  the  mind  in  and  of  itself. 

Conditions  of  Voluntary  Attention.  —  It  is  evident 
that  voluntary  attention  is  impossible  without  some  variety 
of  experience  and  some  mental  development.  To  attend 
voluntarily,  we  must  perceive  relations ;  and  to  perceive 
relations,  the  mind  must  have  had  experience,  and  must 


CHILDREN   AND   VOLUNTARY   ATTENTION.          113 

be  developed  enough  to  interpret  that  experience.  A  bath 
may,  almost  from  the  beginning,  give  a  child  pleasant 
sensations.  But  his  mind  must  be  developed  enough  to 
perceive  the  relations  between  the  preparations  for  his 
bath  and  the  bath  before  the  sight  of  the  former  can  give 
him  pleasure.  Moreover,  it  is  evident  that  the  child  must 
not  only  have  had  experience  of  relations  in  order  to  regard 
one  thing  as  the  sign  of  another ;  he  must  have  not  only 
some  development  of  intellect  to  be  able  to  connect  things 
together,  but  also  .some  development  of  his  capacity  for 
feeling,  in  order  to  be  able  to  form  ideas  of  things  desir- 
able in  themselves.  When  the  child  is  able  to  form  the 
idea  of  a  thing  desirable  in  itself,  and  to  see  the  connec- 
tion between  such  a  thing  and  something  undesirable,  the 
latter  begins  to  be  interesting  because  of  its  relation  to  the 
former  —  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention  exist. 

Very  Young  Children  Incapable  of  Voluntary  Atten- 
tion. —  This  analysis  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
voluntary  attention  is  possible  prepares  us  to  anticipate 
what  observation  confirms  —  that  very  young  children  are 
incapable  of  voluntary  attention.  Indeed,  it  seems  prob- 
able that  in  the  first  days  of  a  child's  life  there  is  no  atten- 
tion of  any  kind. 

Mental  Life  of  Very  Young  Children.  —  The  mental 
life  of  a  new-born  child  seems  to  consist  of  a  mass  of  con- 
fused sensations,  none  of  them  coming  into  clear  and  dis- 
tinct consciousness,  because  none  of  them  are  attended  to. 
But  the  quality  of  some  of  its  sensations,  their  character 
as  pleasant  or  painful,  causes  the  sensations  that  possess  it 
to  be  emphasized  in  the  child's  experience.  Bain  well  says 


114  ATTENTION. 

that  "enjoyment,  immediate  and  incessant,  is  a  primary 
vocation  of  the  infant  mind." 

Two  Causes  of  Non-voluntary  Attention.  —  "  In  the 
presence  of  the  more  enjoyable,  the  less  enjoyable  is  dis- 
regarded." "Attention  lasts  so  long  as  enjoyment  lasts, 
and  no  longer."1  So  far  as  a  child  is  under  the  influence 
of  pleasure  alone,  these  statements  are  true  without  quali- 
fication. But  pain  has  fully  as  strong  a  hold  on  attention 
as  pleasure.  Moreover,  as  the  same  author  remarks,  "  In- 
tensity of  sensation,  whether  pleasant  or  not,  is  a  power." 
A  bright  light,  a  loud  noise,  "take  the  attention  by  storm." 
But  in  considering  the  effect  of  intensity  of  sensations 
upon  attention,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  greater 
their  relative  intensity  —  the  greater,  in  other  words,  the 
contrast  between  the  sensation  and  the  other  experiences 
of  the  child  —  the  stronger  will  be  its  influence  in  attract- 
ing his  attention.  A  remark  made  in  an  ordinary  tone,  for 
example,  when  it  breaks  in  upon  absolute  stillness,  will 
attract  attention  more  strongly  than  one  made  in  a  very 
loud  tone  in  the  midst  of  noise  and  confusion. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  two  causes  —  the  quality 
of  sensations  or  their  character  as  pleasurable  or  painful  — 
and  their  intensity,  absolute  and  relative,  the  child's  power 
of  attention  develops  with  wonderful  rapidity. 

As  long  as  he  is  capable  only  of  non-voluntary  attention, 
he  is  at  the  mercy  of  his  impressions.  As  the  course  of  a 
stream  depends  upon  the  slope  of  the  ground,  so  the  direc- 
tion of  his  attention  depends  upon  the  attractiveness  of  his 
sensations. 

1  Bain's  Education  as  a  Science,  p.  179. 


POWER  OF  VOLUNTARY  ATTENTION.      115 

How  the  Power  of  Voluntary  Attention  is  Developed. 

—  But  the  exercise  of  non-voluntary  attention  develops  the 
power  to  attend  voluntarily.  Every  exercise  of  non-volun- 
tary attention  makes  that  kind  of  attention  easier.  Sensa- 
tions less  and  less  intense  —  sensations  whose  pleasurable 
or  painful  character  is  less  and  less  pronounced  —  have 
power  to  attract  it,  in  accordance  with  the  universal  law  of 
the  mind  that  exercise  develops  power.  While  the  child's 
power  of  non-voluntary  attention  is  in  this  way  increasing, 
his  growing  experience  is  leading  him  to  form  ideas  of 
things  he  desires,  and  to  perceive  the  relation  between  the 
things  that  give  him  pleasure  and  the  means  of  gratifying 
his  desires.  When  this  relation  is  clearly  perceived,  all 
the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention  exist. 

Probably  the  first  exercise  of  distinctively  voluntary 
attention  usually  occurs  when  the  child  is  from  three  to 
six  months  old. 

Experiment  upon  a  Child.  —  Professor  Preyer  reports 
an  instructive  experiment  made  by  Professor  Lindner  upon 
his  little  daughter,  twenty-six  weeks  old,  which  experiment 
proves  conclusively  that  the  child  was  exercising  voluntary 
attention  : 

"While  the  child,  at  this  age,  was  taking  milk  as  she  lay 
in  the  cradle,  the  bottle  took  such  a  slant  that  she  could  not 
get  anything  to  suck.  She  now  tried  to  direct  the  bottle 
with  her  feet,  and  finally  raised  it  by  means  of  them  so  dex- 
terously that  she  could  drink  conveniently.  This  action  was 
manifestly  no  imitation  ;  it  can  not  have  depended  upon  a 
mere  accident ;  for  when,  at  the  next  feeding,  the  bottle  is 
purposely  so  placed  that  the  child  can  not  get  anything 
without  the  help  of  hands  or  feet,  the  same  performance 


Il6  ATTENTION. 

takes  place  as  before.  Then,  on  the  following  day,  when  the 
child  drinks  in  the  same  way,  I  prevent  her  from  doing  so 
by  removing  her  feet  from  the  bottle,  but  she  at  once  makes 
use  of  them  again  as  regulators  for  the  flow  of  the  milk,  as 
dexterously  and  surely  as  if  the  feet  were  made  on  purpose 
for  such  use.  If  it  follows  from  this  that  the  child  acts 
with  deliberation  long  before  it  uses  language  in  the  proper 
sense,  it  also  appears  how  imperfect  and  crude  the  delibera- 
tion is,  for  my  child  drank  her  milk  in  this  awkward  fashion 
for  three  whole  months,  until  she  at  last  made  the  discovery 
one  day  that,  after  all,  the  hands  are  much  better  adapted 
to  service  of  this  sort.  I  had  given  strict  orders  to  those 
about  her  to  let  her  make  this  advance  of  herself." 

What  the  Experiment  Proves.  — We  must  not  forget 
to  note  that  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention  were 
completely  fulfilled  in  this  case,  and  that  it  was  only 
through  this  that  the  child's  action  was  possible.  If  the 
child  had  not  known  by  experience  the  relation  between 
certain  movements  and  the  effects  of  those  movements, 
she  would  not  have  been  able  to  attend  to  those  move- 
ments—  in  themselves  uninteresting  —  in  order  to  get 
hold  of  her  bottle.  And  if  her  experience  had  not  enabled 
her  to  form  an  idea  of  her  bottle  as  a  thing  that  gave  her 
pleasure,  it  would  not  have  been  possible  for  her  to  fix  her 
attention  upon  certain  movements  as  a  means  of  experi- 
encing that  pleasure. 


QUESTIONS   ON  THE  TEXT, 
t  so  important  for  you  to  know  th 

2.    Illustrate  and  define  the  two  kinds  of  attention. 


I.    Why  is  it  so  important  for  you  to  know  the  conditions  of 
attention  ? 


QUESTIONS.  117 

3.  State  and  illustrate  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention. 

4.  Show  that  these  conditions  can  not  be  fulfilled  in  the  case  of 
a  very  young  child. 

5.  Describe  as  clearly  as  you  can  the  consciousness  of  a  new- 
born child. 

6.  What  are  the  two  causes  of  non-voluntary  attention  in  a  child's 
experience  ? 

7.  Show  how  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention  are  gradually 
developed. 

8.  Analyze  the  voluntary  attention  exercised  by  Prof.  Lindner's 
child  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  the  conditions  of  voluntary 
attention  were  fulfilled. 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1 .  Account  for  the  miser's  love  of  money. 

2.  Account  for  the  knowledge  of  Prof.  Lindner's  child. 

3.  Make  a  study  of  any  children  you  know  of  from  two  or  three 
months  to  six  or  seven  years  of  age  in  order  to  ascertain  (i)  the  kind 
of  objects  that  attract  their  non-voluntary  attention ;  and  (2)  the  lines 
of  interests  that  control   their   voluntary   attention   after    they    are 
capable  of  exercising  it. 

4.  President  G.   Stanley  Hall  says:    "It  is  a  striking  fact  that 
nearly  every  great  teacher  in  the  history  of  education  who  has  spoken 
words  that  have  been  heeded  has  lived  for  years  in  the  closest  personal 
relations  to  children,  and  has  had  the  sympathy  and  tact  that  gropes 
out,  if  it  can  not  see  clearly,  the  laws  of  juvenile  development  and 
lines  of  childish  interests."     (a)  Who  are  some  of  the  great  teachers 
of  whom  he  speaks?     (b~)  In  what  way  do  you  think  their  personal 
relations  to  children  were  helpful  to  them  ?      (<:)  Do  you  know  any 
important  educational  questions  that  can  be  best  solved  by  a  careful 
and  systematic  study  of  children  ?     (</)  Why  is  it  important  to  know 
the  "  laws  of  juvenile  development "  ?     (e~)  Why  the  lines  of  childish 
interests  ? 

5.  Prof.  Preyer's  child  gazed  steadily  at  his  own  image  in  the 
glass  when  he  was  about  four  months  old.    Was  that  a  case  of  volun- 
tary attention? 


LESSON   XIV. 

ATTENTION. 

(Continued.} 

COMPAYRE  says  that  the  way  to  teach  the  child  to  be 
attentive  is  to  supply  the  conditions,  of  attention.  Nothing 
can  be  truer.  But  in  order  to  do  this,  as  he  remarks,  we 
need  to  know  what  the  conditions  of  attention  are. 

To  ascertain  the  conditions  of  non-voluntary  attention 
was  the  object  of  the  last  lesson.  We  did,  indeed,  confine 
our  investigations  to  the  first  years  of  childhood ;  but,  as 
G.  Stanley  Hall  remarks,  "the  living,  playing,  learning 
child  .  .  .  embodies  a  truly  elementary  Psychology."  If, 
then,  we  were  right  in  concluding  that  the  two  laws  of 
non-voluntary  attention  —  the  two  conditions  upon  which 
it  depends  in  childhood  —  are  the  pleasurable  or  painful 
character  of  the  child's  experiences,  and  their  intensity, 
we  have  reason  to  hope  that  we  know  the  conditions  that 
we  need  to  supply  in  order  to  get  non-voluntary  attention, 
no  matter  what  grade  of  pupils  we  are  dealing  with. 

Universal  Condition  of  Non- voluntary  Attention.  — 
I  think  we  shall  be  quite  sure  of  this  if,  pursuing  our  usual 
course,  we  make  a  study  of  our  own  experience  and  the 
experience  of  those  about  us.  Why  do  you  find  it  easier 
to  listen  to  a  speaker  when  you  can  see  him  than  when 

118 


NOVELTY  A    NON-VOLUNTARY   ATTENTION.       I  IQ 

you  can  not  ?  Because  when  you  see  him  you  have  a 
much  more  vivid  —  intense  —  impression  of  him  than  you 
have  when  you  do  not.  Why  is  it  that  to  see  a  dentist 
extract  the  tooth  of  a  friend  affects  you  so  much  more 
strongly  than  to  think  of  the  same  thing  ?  Because  the 
perception  of  a  person  in  pain  is  a  much  more  vivid  ex- 
perience than  the  thought  of  one.  Why  is  it  that  pupils 
find  it  so  much  harder  to  attend  to  a  teacher  who  speaks 
in  a  drawling,  monotonous  tone,  than  to  one  who  speaks  in 
a  quick,  lively,  animated  manner  ?  Because  the  latter 
makes  more  definite  impressions  upon  the  mind.  The 
monotonous  speaker,  moreover,  is  an  unemphatic  speaker ; 
and  in  the  absence  of  emphasis  —  of  impressions  having 
the  character  of  intensity  —  there  is  nothing  to  particularly 
attract  our  attention  to  the  leading  idea,  so  that  it  is  much 
harder  to  learn  what  that  idea  is.  Why  is  it  that  you  can 
remember  an  argument  that  you  understand  so  much 
better  than  you  can  one  that  you  do  not  understand  ? 
Because,  when  you  understand  an  argument,  you  perceive 
the  relations  between  its  various  parts  ;  and  the  perception 
of  relations  is  a  source  of  pleasure,  and  therefore  a  stimulus 
of  attention,  and  hence  a  help  to  memory. 

Novelty  a  Non- voluntary  Attention.  —  It  appears, 
then,  that  in  learning  the  conditions  of  non-voluntary 
attention  in  the  early  years  of  a  child's  life,  we  have 
learned  what  they  are  throughout  the  whole  of  his  life. 
Some  writers  speak  of  novelty  as  a  condition  of  non- 
voluntary  attention,  and  under  some  circumstances  it  un- 
doubtedly is.  But  why  ?  Because  the  novel  is  the  unex- 
plained, and  the  unexplained  excites  our  curiosity.  But 
curiosity  stimulates  thought,  and  the  exercise  of  the  power 


I2O  ATTENTION. 

of  thinking,  under  normal  circumstances,  is  a  source  of 
pleasure.  In  a  word,  the  novel  attracts  our  attention 
because  of  the  pleasurable  character  of  the  experiences 
connected  with  it.  To  prove  this,  we  only  need  to  recall 
the  fact  that,  when  we  see  a  novel  thing  under  such  cir- 
cumstances as  not  to  excite  our  curiosity,  it  does  not 
attract  our  attention.  To  the  mind  of  a  man  who  knows 
nothing  of  machinery,  a  complicated  machine,  however 
novel,  offers  no  attraction.  Indeed,  a  man  who  knew 
nothing  of  machinery  would  not  know,  without  being  told, 
that  a  particular  machine  was  novel,  unless  its  new  features 
were  of  a  very  striking  character.  His  ignorance  of 
machinery  would  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  see  the 
difference  between  the  novel  machine  and  those  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  seeing.  If  its  new  features  were  of  such  a 
striking  character  that  he  could  not  fail  to  notice  them,  he 
would  regard  it  with  a  sort  of  vague  wonder,  but  not  with 
that  keen,  active  curiosity  which  is  such  a  powerful  stim- 
ulus to  attention.  That  is  why  the  entirely  familiar  and 
the  entirely  unknown1  are  equally  destitute  of  interest. 
Neither  of  them  offers  to  the  mind  a  problem  to  be  solved ; 
neither  of  them  lures  to  exertion  with  the  anticipation  of  a 
conquest  over  difficulties.  The  entirely  familiar  does  not 
stimulate  thought,  because  it  is,  or  seems  to  be,  the  entirely 
known  ;  the  entirely  unknown  does  not,  because  it  offers  to 
the  mind  nothing  that  it  can  take  hold  of.  It  is  like  a 
new  ball  of  string,  carefully  wound  up,  with  the  ends  so 
well  concealed  that  there  seems  no  way  of  beginning  to 
unwind  it. 

Of  course  it  will  be  understood  that  I  use  the  phrase  "entirely  un- 
nown  »  relatively.      Strictly  speaking,  the  entirely  unknown  could  not 
come  before  the  mind  at  all. 


PHYSICAL  CONDITION  AND  ATTENTION.  121 

Physical  Condition  and  Non- voluntary  Attention.  - 

So,  again,  the  physical  conditions  of  attention  are  insisted 
on,  and,  as  we  all  know  by  experience,  with  entire  pro- 
priety. When  you  are  sick  or  tired,  you  can  not  attend 
as  you  can  when  you  are  well  and  rested.  But  why  ? 
Because  things  do  not  interest  you  so  much.  The  rela- 
tions between  body  and  mind  are  so  close  that  the  mind  is 
incapable  of  intense  interest  when  the  body  is  exhausted. 
That  attention,  then,  is  strongly  influenced  by  bodily  con- 
ditions is  indeed  true  ;  but  it  is  no  new  law :  it  is  simply  a 
case  under  the  law  already  considered,  that  that  which 
Interests  us,  whether  by  its  pleasurable  or  painful  character, 
attracts  attention. 

We  may  conclude,  then,  that  we  have  found  what  we  are 
in  search  of,  so  far  as  non-voluntary  attention  is  concerned 
• —  the  conditions  which  we  must  supply  in  order  to  get  it. 

Let  us  now  see  how  the  case  is  altered  by  voluntary 
attention.  As  a  matter  of  experience,  how  does  the  will 
influence  attention  ? 

Interest  and  Voluntary  Attention.  —  Going  to  your 
room,  you  find  a  half  dozen  books  on  your  table.  There 
is  Vanity  Fair,  a  volume  of  Tennyson's  poems,  Stanley's 
Dark  Continent,  Looking-  Backward,  a  history  of  England, 
and  a  text-book  on  Geometry.  Which  will  you  read  ?  If 
you  were  capable  only  of  non-voluntary  attention,  you 
would  read  the  one  which  attracted  your  attention  most 
strongly.  There  would  be  a  struggle  between  competing 
attractions,  and  the  strongest  would  win  the  day.  But 
through  the  influence  of  your  will  you  may  give  your 
attention  to  precisely  that  subject  which  you  like  least. 
You  do  not  like  mathematics,  but  as  you  are  going  to  be 


122  ATTENTION. 

examined  in  geometry,  you  begin  to  study  that.  Can  you 
keep  your  attention  on  it  simply  by  an  effort  of  will? 
Certainly  not.  The  will  simply  determines  the  direction 
in  which  the  mind  looks ;  but  if  it  continues  to  look  that 
way,  it  must  find  something  to  interest  it  —  something  to 
attract  its  non-voluntary  attention.  The  will  determines, 
in  this  case,  that  the  attention  shall  be  put  on  geometry ; 
but  if  it  stays  there,  it  is  because  the  subject  develops 
some  interest  for  the  mind  —  stimulates  its  non-voluntary 
attention.  Sully  puts  this  very  clearly  :  "  By  an  act  of  will 
I  may  resolve  to  turn  my  attention  to  something  —  say  a 
passage  in  a  book.  But  if,  after  this  preliminary  process 
of  adjustment  of  the  mental  eye,  the  object  opens  up  no 
interesting  phase,  all  the  willing  in  the  world  will  not 
produce  a  calm,  settled  state  of  concentration.  The  will 
introduces  mind  and  object ;  it  can  not  force  an  attach- 
ment between  them.  No  compulsion  of  attention  ever 
succeeded  in  making  a  young  child  cordially  embrace  and 
appropriate,  by  an  act  of  concentration,  an  unsuitable  and 
therefore  uninteresting  subject.  We  thus  see  that  volun- 
tary attention  is  not  removed  from  the  sway  of  interest. 
What  the  will  does  is  to  determine  the  kind  of  interest 
that  shall  prevail  at  the  moment." 

The  Will  and  Voluntary  Attention.  —  The  last  sen- 
tence states  the  work  done  by  the  will  in  attention  very 
exactly.  It  creates  no  new  influence  ;  it  simply  determines 
which  of  pre-existing  influences  shall  have  control  over  the 
mind.  Co-operating  with  a  pre-existing  influence,  the  will 
can  make  a  weaker  one  prevail  over  a  stronger.  Without 
a  prevailing  influence  to  work  on,  the  will  is  as  powerless 
as  a  lever  without  a  fulcrum. 


WILL  AND    CONCENTRATION    OF  THOUGHT.       123 

But,  upon  second  thought,  have  we  not  put  this  too 
strongly  ?  Does  voluntary  attention  always  require  a  pre- 
existing  influence  in  order  to  be  effective  ?  I  do  not  think 
so.  If  the  will  resolutely  turns  the  gaze  of  the  mind  upon 
a  certain  subject,  points  of  interest,  before  unnoticed,  may 
present  themselves.  The  interest  which  alone  makes  con- 
centration of  mind  possible  may  result  from  the  exercise 
of  the  will,  instead  of  existing  before  it.  As  the  persua- 
sions of  a  friend  may  induce  you  to  consent  'to  be  intro- 
duced to  a  person  who  does  not  attract  you,  and  whom  you 
think  you  will  not  like,  so  the  exertion  of  the  will  may 
induce  you  to  attend  to  what  you  otherwise  would  not  have 
attended  to,  because  it  revealed  no  attractions  to  such 
superficial  glances  as,  without  interest,  are  never  given 
except  in  voluntary  attention.  Precisely  as  your  new 
acquaintance  may  develop  elements  of  attractiveness  which 
you  never  would  have  known  anything  about  if  you  had 
not  consented  to  an  introduction,  so  an  uninteresting  sub- 
ject may  become  interesting  under  the  searching  gaze  of 
voluntary  attention,  which  otherwise  would  have  remained 
uninteresting  forever.  And  this  is  one  of  the  functions  of 
voluntary  attention  —  "  to  develop  interests,  to  make  us 
acquainted  with  interesting  subjects,  of  which  we  should 
have  otherwise  remained  ignorant." 

The  Will  and  Concentration  of  Thought.  —  But  there 
is  another  function  of  equal  importance.  What  we  call 
concentration  of  thought  is  a  continuity  of  attention  to  the 
same  subject.  But  this  continuity  is  by  no  means  insured 
when,  under  the  influence  of  the  will,  the  interests  of  a 
certain  subject  are  present  to  the  mind.  If  the  will  relaxes 
its  hold  upon  the  activities  of  the  mind,  the  attention  is 


ATTENTION. 

liable  to  be  carried  away  by  any  one  of  the  thousands  of 
ideas  that  the  laws  of  association  are  constantly  bringing 
into  our  minds.  As  you  use  your  will  to  give  your  atten- 
tion to  geometry,  although  it  attracts  you  less  than  a 
number  of  other  subjects,  so,  if  you  really  study  it,  you 
use  your  will  to  prevent  your  mind  from  being  dragged 
away  from  it  by  the  interests  that  are  constantly  importun- 
ing you.  He  who  possesses  this  power  in  a  high  degree 
possesses  in  a  high  degree  the  power  of  voluntary  atten- 
tion —  to  give  steadiness  to  the  mind,  to  prevent  it  from 
going  capriciously  here  and  there  under  the  influence  of 
the  interests  that  happen  to  be  present  at  the  particular 
moment. 

If  the  interests  of  the  mind  are  the  chief  condition  of 
non-voluntary  attention,  and  if  voluntary  attention,  to  have 
any  educational  value,  must  start  from,  or  result  in,  inter- 
ests, we  can  put  the  two  questions  in  which,  as  teachers, 
we  are  interested,  in  a  more  definite  form.  What  is  the 
end  or  object  of  education  ?  What  is  teaching  ?  The 
object  of  education,  we  have  said,  is  to  develop  the  power 
of  attending  to  the  right  things  in  the  right  way ;  to  teach 
is  to  get  and  keep  the  attention  of  our  pupils  by  bringing 
their  minds  into  contact  with  subjects  that  have  an  educa- 
tional value.  The  one  is  the  goal ;  the  other  seems  the 
path  by  which  we  must  reach  it.  The  one  is  the  end ; 
the  other  seems  the  means  by  which  we  must  attain  it. 
But  we  now  see  that  to  develop  the  power  to  attend  to  the 
right  things  in  the  right  way  is  to  develop  certain  perma- 
nent interests  in  the  mind,  and  to  give  it  the  power  to 
determine,  at  any  particular  time,  the  interests  by  which 
the  current  of  its  thoughts  shall  be  directed.  We  see  also 
that,  to  get  and  keep  the  attention  of  our  pupils  by  bring- 


TWO    GREAT   QUESTIONS    FOR   TEACHERS.        125 

ing  their  minds  into  contact  with  subjects  that  have  an 
educational  value,  we  must  make  those  subjects  interesting ; 
we  must  give  their  wills  a  fulcrum  upon  which  to  work. 

Two  Great  Questions  for  Teachers.  —  We  may  then 
state  our  two  great  questions  in  this  form  :  "  (i)  How  can 
we  develop  those  permanent  interests  that  shall  induce  the 
mind  to  attend  to  the  right  things  in  the  right  way  ? 
(2)  How  can  we  interest  our  pupils  in  the  subjects  we 
teach  ? "  Stated  in  this  compact  form,  we  see  that  we  can 
not  answer  the  first  by  answering  the  second.  Life  is 
larger  than  the  school.  When  we  have  done  all  we  can  to 
make  the  subjects  they  study  interesting  to  our  pupils,  the 
interests  we  have  developed  will  have  to  compete  with 
other  interests,  which  the  work  of  the  school  touches  but 
indirectly  and  remotely.  It  will  always  remain  possible 
for  their  wills  to  choose  to  foster  the  interests  that  check 
the  growth  of  those  we  wish  to  make  permanent.  More- 
over, the  school  is  larger  than  the  recitation.  There  are 
other  influences  —  discipline,  for  example  —  which  we  can 
bring  to  bear  upon  the  will  besides  those  that  directly 
result  from  the  recitation. 

In  addition  to  these  particulars  there  is  another  and 
much  more  important  one,  in  which  the  answers  to  the 
two  questions  do  not  coincide. 

Interests  in  Ideas  and  Interest  in  Ideals.  —  There  are 
two  radically  different  kinds  of  interests:  interests  in  ideas 
and  interest  in  ideals.  In  spite  of  what  the  Herbartians 
tell  us,  I  maintain  that  any  subject  may  be  so  taught  as  to 
make  the  interest  aroused  in  connection  with  it  almost 
altogether  an  interest  in  ideas;  and  that  some  subjects 


I26  ATTENTION. 

can  not  be  taught  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them  to  any 
considerable  extent  a  means  of  awakening  interest  in  ideals. 

Difference  between  them  Illustrated  by  the  Study  of 
History.  —  Let  us  take  history  for  an  illustration.  Taught 
in  the  right  way,  a  study  of  it  will  develop  in  the  pupil 
both  kinds  of  interests.  A  pupil  will  be  led  to  see  the 
relation  between  events  and  their  causes.  He  will  see,  for 
example,  how  the  weak  government  of  the  Confederation 
was  the  natural  expression  of  the  lack  of  national  patriotism, 
how  the  partialities  of  the  Jefferson  ian  Republican  party  for 
France,  in  1 793,  and  of  the  Hamiltonian  Federalist  party 
for  England,  were  the  natural  results  of  differences  in 
temperament,  surroundings  and  the  like.  This  perception 
of  the  relation  between  events  and  their  causes  awakens 
an  interest  which  illustrates  what  I  mean  by  interest  in 
ideas.  It  is  purely  intellectual.  It  may  be  felt  by  a  man 
who  thinks  that  the  only  mistake  made  by  Benedict  Arnold 
and  Aaron  Burr  was  in  not  succeeding.  An  interest  in 
the  perception  of  numerical  relations,  or  of  mathematical 
relations  in  general  is  of  the  same  sort :  it  is  an  interest  in 
ideas  —  not  ideals. 

But  a  pupil  may  also  get  from  a  study  of  history  a 
radically  different  kind  of  interest.  He  may  be  led  to  see 
\vhat  the  patriotic  self-sacrifice  of  men  has  contributed  to 
the  making  of  our  country  what  it  is  —  that  at  every 
critical  period  men  have  been  found  who  preferred  to 
sacrifice  their  private  comforts  to  the  public  good.  And 
such  perceptions  may  develop  in  him  an  admiration  of 
genuine  patriotism,  and  may  slowly  kindle  in  him  a  resolve 
to  be  true  to  the  same  lofty  ideals  of  civic  worth  that 
seemed  to  animate  them.  This  is  an  interest  in  ideals. 


DISTINCTIONS    OF   FACT  AND   OF  WORTH.        127 

Distinctions  of  Fact  and  Distinctions  of  Worth.  — 

The  difference  between  the  two  may  be  clearly  brought 
out  by  means  of  a  distinction  stated  in  Davidson's  History 
of  Greek  Education,  one  of  the  best  books,  by  the  way, 
on  the  subject  of  education  with  which  I  am  acquainted. 
There  are,  says  Davidson,  two  kinds  of  distinctions :  dis- 
tinctions of  fact,  and  distinctions  of  worth.  We  distinguish 
one  thing  from  another  thing;  what  is  from  what  is  not. 
Such  distinctions  are  distinctions  of  fact.  But  sometimes 
our  attention  is  directed  to  the  relation  between  a  fact  and 
a  certain  ideal  in  our  minds.  We  feel  that  such  and^uch 
conduct  not  only  was,  but  that  it  ought  to  have  been,  or 
that  it  was,  but  that  it  ought  not  to  have  been.  Now  the 
interests  that  grow  out  of  distinctions  of  fact  as  such  are 
interests  in  ideas ;  while  the  interests  that  grow  out  of 
distinctions  of  worth  are  interests  in  ideals. 

This  discrimination  of  interests  in  ideas  from  interests 
in  ideals  will  serve  its  purpose  if  it  helps  us  to  see  that  no 
one  has  these  permanent  interests  that  induce  the  mind  to 
attend  to  the  right  things  in  the  right  way  unless  he  has 
interests  in  the  right  ideals  as  well  as  interests  in  ideas,  and 
that  teaching  may  be  signally  successful  in  awakening  an 
interest  in  ideas,  and  as  signally  unsuccessful  in  awakening 
an  interest  in  ideals.  "All  the  boys  hated  him,  and  yet 
they  all  said  he  was  the  best  teacher  they  had  ever  seen." 
A  teacher  of  whom  such  a  remark  could  be  truly  made 
was  a  good  teacher  only  in  the  sense  that  he  was  success- 
ful in  awakening  an  interest  in  ideas.  No  teacher  who 
succeeds  in  stimulating  interest  in  ideals  can  be  an  object 
of  dislike.  In  order,  then,  that  we  may  do  what  we  can  to 
develop  these  permanent  interests  that  shall  induce  our 
pupils  to  attend  to  the  right  things  in  the  right  way,  we 


128  ATTENTION. 

must  do  what  we  can  to  develop  an  interest  in  ideals  as 
well  as  an  interest  in  ideas. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1 .  What  are  the  two  conditions  of  non-voluntary  attention  in  the 
case  of  children? 

2.  Show   that   they    are    universal    conditions    of    non-voluntary 
attention. 

3.  Why  is  it  that  novelty  sometimes  attracts  our  attention  and 
sometimes  fails  to  do  it  ? 

4.  Show  that  the  influence  of  novelty  is  a  case  of  one  of  the  two 
conditions  already  discovered. 

5.  Show  that  the  influence  of  bodily  conditions  upon  the  attention 
is  not  a  distinct  law  of  attention. 

6.  State  and  illustrate  the  influence  of  the  will  upon  attention. 

7.  What  are  the  two  functions  of  voluntary  attention? 

8.  What  is  the  most  definite  form  in  which  you  can  state  the  two 
great  questions  which  as  a  teacher  it  is  your  business  to  answer  ? 

9.  What  is  the  difference  between  them  ? 

10.  Why  is  it  so  hard  to  understand  unemphatic  reading? 

1 1.  What  is  meant  by  "interests  in  ideals"? 

1 2.  What,  by  "  interests  in  ideas  "  ? 

SUGGESTIVE    QUESTIONS. 

1.  The  end  of  education  is  often  said  to  be  "symmetrical  develop- 
ment"    In  this  lesson  I  say  it  is  the  development  of  certain  perma* 
nent  interests  in  the  mind,  etc.     Are  the  two  answers  consistent  ? 

2.  "A  few    years    ago,    a  gentleman    brought  two    Eskimos  to 
London  —  he  wished  to  amuse  and  at  the  same  time  to  astonish  them 
with  the  great  magnificence  of  the  metropolis.    For  this  purpose,  after 
having  equipped  them  like  English  gentlemen,  he  took  them  out  one 
morning  to  walk  through  the  streets  of  London.    They  walked  for  sev- 
eral hours  in  silence ;  they  expressed  neither  pleasure  nor  admiration  at 
anything  which  they  saw.    When  their  walk  was  ended,  they  appeared 
uncommonly  melancholy  and  stupefied.     As  soon  as  they  got  home, 


QUESTIONS.  129 

they  sat  down  with  their  elbows  upon  their  knees  and  hid  their  faces 
between  their  hands.  The  only  words  they  could  be  brought  to  utter 
were,  'Too  much  smoke  —  too  much  noise  —  too  much  houses  —  too 
much  men  —  too  much  everything !  "'  —  Edgeworth's  Practical 
Education.  Account  for  the  state  of  mind  of  the  Eskimos. 

3.  What  subjects  in  the  school  curriculum  seem  to  you  to  be  best 
calculated  to  awaken  an  interest  in  ideals? 

4.  Can  the  study  of  mathematical  and  physical  geography   be 
made  to  develop  an  interest  in  ideals  ? 

5.  What  sort  of  discipline  seems  to  you  to  be  best  calculated  to 
develop  an  interest  in  ideals  ? 

6.  Under  the  influence  of  the  intensity  of  his  interest,  the  whole 
mind  of  an  orator,  in  the  midst  of  an  oration,  is  brought  to  bear  upon 
his  subject.     Ideas  and  images  not  connected  with  it  do  not  come  to 
his  mind  —  as  though  for  the  time  he  had  forgotten  everything  in  the 
world  except  a  certain  group  of  related  facts  and  ideas.     Is  this  con- 
centration of  thought  voluntary  or  involuntary  attention  ? 


LESSON  XV. 

ATTENTION. 

(Continued.') 

WE  have  seen  that  voluntary  attention  is  not  "removed 
from  the  sway  of  interests,"  but  that,  to  have  any  educa- 
tional value,  it  must  start  from  or  lead  to  interests ;  that 
the  two  functions  of  voluntary  attention  are  (i)  the  devel- 
opment of  interests  in  things  that  would  never  give  us 
pleasure  were  it  not  for  voluntary  attention ;  and  (2)  the 
development  of  the  power  of  continuous  attention,  that 
the  mind  may  direct  its  own  energies  —  that  it  may  not  be 
a  mere  instrument,  producing  nothing  but  inharmonious 
sounds,  because  played  upon  by  every  passing  impulse. 
From  this  point  of  view  we  were  able  to  see  that  the 
object  of  education  is  the  development  of  certain  perma- 
nent interests,  and  of  the  power  to  determine  the  course  of 
one's  activities ;  also  that  true  teaching  consists  in  bring- 
ing the  mind  into  contact  with  subjects  that  have  an  in- 
tellectual and  ethical  value,  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them 
interesting.  This  latter,  as  we  know,  is  only  another  way 
of  saying  that  true  teaching  consists  in  getting  and  keep- 
ing the  attention  of  our  pupils,  and  making  the  right  use 
of  it. 

Rules  for  Getting  Attention.  —  Let  us  begin,  then, 
with  the  simpler  question,  How  can  we  get  and  keep  the 

130 


VOLUNTARY   AND    NON-VOLUNTARY.  131 

attention  of  our  pupils  ?  Comenius  answered  that  ques- 
tion with  remarkable  completeness  nearly  three  hundred 
years  ago.  In  his  time  it  was  the  custom  to  teach  boys 
separately,  or  not  more  than  two  or  three  together.  He 
contended  that  a  lecturer  could  hold  the  attention  of  a 
large  class  just  as  well  (i)  "by  always  bringing  before  his 
pupils  something  pleasing  and  profitable ;  (2)  by  intro- 
ducing the  subject  of  instruction  in  such  a  way  as  to  com- 
mend it  to  them,  or  by  stirring  their  intelligences  into 
activity  by  inciting  questions  regarding  it ;  (3)  by  standing 
in  a  place  elevated  above  the  class,  and  requiring  all  eyes  to 
be  fixed  on  him  ;  (4)  by  aiding  attention  through  the  repre- 
sentation of  everything  to  the  senses,  as  far  as  possible ; 

(5)  by  interrupting  his  instruction  by  frequent  and  perti- 
nent questions  —  for  example,   'What  have  I  just  said?' 

(6)  if  the  boy  who  has  been  asked  a  question  should  fail  to 
answer,  by  leaping  to  the  second,  third,  tenth,  thirtieth, 
and  asking  the  answer  without  repeating  the  qicestion ; 

(7)  by  occasionally  demanding  an  answer  from  any  one  in 
the  whole  class,  and  thus  stirring  up  rivalry;  (8)  by  giving 
an  opportunity  to  any  one  to  ask  questions  when  the  lesson 
is  finished." 

Voluntary  and  Non-voluntary  Attention  both  Neces- 
sary. —  The  hastiest  glance  at  these  rules  will  enable  us 
to  see  that  the  teacher  who  conforms  to  them  supplies  the 
conditions  of  both  voluntary  and  non-voluntary  attention  ; 
and  we  need  to  carefully  note  the  fact  that  we  must  do  it 
if  we  hope  to  get  and  keep  the  attention  of  our  pupils. 
A  teacher  who  imagines  that  his  work  is  done  in  this  direc- 
tion when  he  interests  his  pupils  —  in  other  words,  when 
he  supplies  the  conditions  of  non-voluntary  attention  —  is 


lTt2  ATTENTION. 

sadly  mistaken.  He  can  not  get  their  non-voluntary  atten- 
tion until  he  begins  to  interest  them  ;  and  he  can  not  keep 
it  afterwards  simply  by  being  interesting.  Until  he  inter- 
ests them,  their  attention,  so  far  as  it  is  non-voluntary,  will 
be  given  to  the  most  interesting  thing  that  happens  to 
come  before  their  minds.  After  he  interests  them,  instead 
of  keeping  their  attention  on  what  he  is  saying,  they  will 
continue  to  think  about  some  interesting  thing  he  has  said, 
until  their  attention  is  attracted  by  something  else. 

In  complying  with  a  part  of  the  first  rule  —  in  bringing 
before  our  pupils  something  pleasing  —  we  are  evidently 
supplying  the  conditions  of  non-voluntary  attention  by  the 
matter  of  our  instruction  ;  in  complying  with  a  part  of  the 
second  —  "  stirring  their  intelligences  to  activity  by  incit- 
ing to  questions  regarding  it" — we  are  doing  the  same 
thing  by  the  manner  of  our  instruction  ;  and  the  same  is 
true  of  the  fourth  and  eighth  rules. 

In  bringing  before  our  pupils  something  which  they  feel 
to  be  profitable ;  in  teaching  it  so  as  to  commend  it  to 
them ;  in  occupying  a  position  where  we  can  see  the  entire 
class  (a  position  that  will  make  them  feel  that  the  teacher 
will  be  likely  to  know  if  they  permit  their  minds  to  wander); 
in  frequently  calling  upon  them  to  reproduce  what  we  have 
just  said  ;  in  asking  our  questions  promiscuously,  without 
repeating  them,  when  an  incorrect  answer  is  given  —  we 
are  supplying  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention,  giving 
them  reasons  for  attending  apart  from  the  interest  of  the 
matter  to  which  we  wish  to  call  their  attention. 

Importance  of  the  Fifth  Rule.  —  Every  one  of  these 
rules  for  getting  the  voluntary  attention  of  pupils  is  im- 
portant ;  but  I  wish  especially  to  call  attention  to  two  or 


KNOWING   THE    EDUCATIONAL  VALUE.  133 

three  of  them.  Of  the  fifth  I  will  only  remark  that  no 
teacher,  below  the  university,  who  does  not  practice  it 
habitually,  has  the  attention  of  a  majority  of  his  pupils,  no 
matter  what  grade  of  pupils  he  teaches.  Moreover,  unless 
some  such  rule  is  observed,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  a  teacher 
can  be  sure  that  his  pupils  understand  him.  We  shall  miss 
half  of  the  importance  of  the  first  rule  unless  we  bear  in 
mind  that  when  we  can  not  see  our  pupils,  they  can  not 
see  us.  What  a  hindrance  that  is  to  attention  we  shall 
realize  if  we  try  to  listen  to  a  speaker  when  we  can  not 
see  him. 

Necessity  of  Knowing  the  Educational  Value  of  what 
we  Teach.  —  But  it  is  of  the  first  and  second  rules  that 
I  wish  particularly  to  speak.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the 
more  I  am  -convinced  that  the  neglect  of  them  is  one  of 
the  principal  causes  not  only  of  inattention  in  classes,  but 
of  a  dislike  for  the  work  of  the  school  in  general.  We  too 
often  fail  to  inform  ourselves  of  the  educational  value  of 
the  subjects  we  teach.  It  too  often  happens  that  the  best 
reason  we  can  give  for  teaching  geography,  grammar, 
arithmetic,  etc.,  is  that  we  were  taught  them.  Now,  when 
we  do  not  know  why  we  require  our  pupils  to  study  this  and 
that  subject,  is  it  any  wonder  that  our  pupils  do  not  know 
why  they  are  required  to  study  them  ?  Boys  know  very 
well  that  they  could  spend  their  time  to  advantage  if  they 
could  use  it  as  they  liked.  They  could  go  fishing  or  hunt- 
ing or  skating,  and  have  lots  of  fun.  They  could  work 
and  get  money,  and  have  more  fun.  These  things  a  boy 
knows.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  he  does  not  like  to  go  to 
school,  when  he  has  never  been  made  to  feel  the  value  of 
an  education  ?  Is  it  any  wonder  that  he  makes  no  effort 


134 


ATTENTION. 


to  keep  his  mind  from  wandering  when  the  teacher  is  talk- 
ing about  a  lot  of  "  stuff,"  as  he  calls  it,  because  he  has 
never  been  made  to  appreciate  its  value  ?  "  Is  he  to  sit 
and  toil  day  by  day,  and  let  the  sun  shine  upon  hill  and 
dale,  and  he  not  see  it  ?  And  let  it  gleam  along  the  rivers, 
and  glance  in  and  out  of  the  forest  trees  with  scattered 
joyousness,  and  he  not  see  it  ?  Is  he  to  miss  the  freshness 
of  the  air,  the  games,  and  the  thousand  and  one  delights 
that  pass  through  the  kaleidoscope  of  the  boy  mind,  so 
fertile  in  fancy,  so  free?  And  all  for  what?"  For 
nothing,  so  far  as  he  knows,  unless  he  has  been  made  to 
feel  the  value  of  an  education.  If  you  expect  him  to  work, 
if  you  expect  him  to  attend  to  you,  you  must  make  him 
understand,  so  far  as  you  can,  that  it  is  a  reasonable  thing 
for  him  to  do  what  you  require.  And  you  must  make  him 
realize  what  knowledge  costs. 

Educational  Value  of  Geography.  —  Show  him  a  map 
of  Africa  made  twenty  years  ago,  and  show  him  a  map  of 
Africa  as  it  is  known  to-day.  Tell  him  of  the  toil  and 
privations  and  hardships  that  Livingstone  underwent  to 
make  the  difference.  Let  him  know,  make  him  feel,  that 
the  knowledge  which  he  can  get  so  easily  at  school  is  the 
"piled  up"  life  of  some  of  the  greatest  and  noblest  men 
of  the  race.  It  is  so  easy  to  read  that  "  the  earth  is  round 
because  men  have  sailed  around  it."  But  Drake  and 
Raleigh  and  the  other  men  who  were  among  the  first  to 
make  the  voyage  did  it  at  the  f  isk  of  their  lives.  Some  of 
them,  leaving  pleasant  homes  and  wives  and  children  that 
they  loved,  exposed  themselves  to  unknown  dangers  —  the 
result  of  it  all  is  a  single  line. 

1  Thring's  Theory  and  Practice  of  Education. 


EDUCATIONAL  VALUE    OF    SCIENCE.  135 

Educational  Value  of  Science.  —  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say  that  every  subject  we  teach  lends  itself  as  readily  to 
this  kind  of  illustration  as  geography.  Every  niche,  every 
arch,  in  that  great  and  beneficent  temple  that  we  call 
science  was  put  there  by  the  toil  and  labor  of  men.  Read 
how  Newton  first  came  to  suppose  that  the  fall  of  the 
apple  and  the  revolution  of  the  moon  around  the  earth 
were  due  to  the  same  cause  ;  how  he  made  long  and  labo- 
rious calculations  only  to  find  that  the  results  of  his  calcu- 
lations did  not  correspond  with  his  theory ;  how  he  put  his 
theory  aside  and  found  after  many  years  that  an  error  in 
his  data  had  led  to  erroneous  results,  and  that  the  results 
of  his  calculations  from  the  true  data  were  in  harmony 
with  his  theory ;  or  read  how  Kepler  made  hypothesis  after 
hypothesis  in  trying  to  find  the  shape  of  the  path  of  the 
planets  in  their  revolution  about  the  sun  until  at  last  when 
he  had  discovered  the  true  one  he  was  able  to  say:  "  I  do 
think  thy  thoughts  after  Thee,  O  God";  read  such  inci- 
dents, and  they  will  help  you  to  understand  what  Fouillee 
means  when  he  says  we  ought  to  humanize  the  sci- 
ences we  teach  :  we  ought,  in  other  words,  so  to  teach 
them  as  to  make  our  pupils  realize  the  human  element 
in  them  —  realize  how  they  have  grown  and  how  they 
contribute  to  human  well-being.  The  tendency  of  such 
teaching  is  to  interest  our  pupils  not  merely  in  ideas, 
but  ideals ;  is  to  stimulate  them  to  form  resolves  to  con- 
tribute their  mite  to  the  advancement  of  human  happiness 
and  knowledge. 

But  if  we  put  Comenius's  rule  fully  into  practice,  our 
pupils  will  learn  to  value  education  not  merely  for  what  it 
will  bring  them,  but  for  what  it  will  make  them.  They 
realize  the  difference  between  the  boy  who  can  read  and 


ATTENTION. 

one  who  can  not.  The  boy  who  can  not  read  sees  nothing 
but  a  piece  of  paper  with  black  lines  of  all  sorts  and  shapes 
upon  it.  But  the  boy  who  can  read  sees  not  merely  paper 
with  letters  upon  it,  but  the  very  mind  of  the  man  whose 
thoughts  are  materialized  on  the  page  before  him.  Make 
him  feel  that  he  possesses  other  dormant  powers  that  you 
are  trying  to  develop ;  make  him  feel  that  education  will 
not  merely  give  him  better  tools  to  use,  but  increase  his 
power  and  skill  in  using  them ;  make  him  feel  tnat  every 
lesson  you  assign  is  intended  to  lead  to  this  end,  and  he 
will  try  to  attend,  whether  he  succeeds  or  not. 

But  to  insure  that  his  efforts  will  be  successful,  we  must 
give  his  will  a  fulcrum  upon  which  to  work  —  we  must 
develop  interests. 

Source  of  Interest.  —  The  great  secret  of  interest  is 
adaptation.  The  toys  and  playthings  and  pictures  of  a 
child  amuse  him  because  they  are  adapted  to  his  state  of 
development  —  they  stimulate  him  to  exercise  his  powers. 
What  we  must  do  in  teaching,  if  we  expect  to  interest  our 
pupils,  is  to  set  them  to  do  something  that  they  are  able 
to  do,  in  order  that  they  may  acquire  the  power  to  do  what 
they  can  not  do.  We  should  constantly  be  striving  at 
every  stage  of  a  child's  development  to  learn  the  contents 
of  his  mind  —  to  make  an  inventory  of  his  capacities,  so  as 
to  see  which  of  them  we  can  turn  to  educational  account, 
and  how.  And  here  again  we  come  upon  the  fact  that 
meets  us  at  every  turn  and  corner  of  our  experience  in 
teaching  —  the  necessity  of  a  constant,  careful,  systematic 
study  of  our  pupils,  if  we  hope  for  the  best  success  in 
teaching  them.  Unless  we  know  them  thoroughly,  we  can 
not  adapt  our  teaching  to  them  perfectly. 


LAW   OF   ADAPTATION.  137 

Questioning  and  the  Law  of  Adaptation.  —  We  all 

know  that  we  can  keep  the  attention  of  our  pupils  better 
by  asking  questions  than  we  can  by  doing  all  the  talking 
ourselves.  The  reason  is  found  in  the  law  of  adaptation. 
When  we  are  asking  questions  we  are  making  the  utmost 
use  of  the  impulses  of  curiosity  and  activity.  Children 
like  to  learn  things,  and  they  like  to  act.  Ask  the  right 
kind  of  questions,  and  you  make  them  conscious  of  their 
ignorance  —  you  stimulate  their  curiosity.  But  here  again 
the  necessity  of  studying  the  minds  of  our  pupils  presents 
itself.  The  curiosity  of  little  children  is  very  different 
from  that  of  older  pupils.  A  child  asks  a  question,  and 
before  you  have  answered  it  he  asks  another  about  an 
entirely  different  subject.  His  question  was  the  result  of 
involuntary  attention ;  and  since  his  interest  in  things  in 
the  form  of  curiosity  is  very  slight,  like  a  bird  he  flits  from 
this  subject  to  that,  never  staying  with  one  thing  a  minute 
at  a  time.  But  this,  as  we  know,  is  one  of  the  things 
which  we  want  to  develop  —  this  power  of  attention.  So 
you  will  try  to  help  him  attend  more  and  more  closely  to  a 
subject,  and  to  follow  out  a  line  of  thought  more  and  more 
persistently.  When  he  asks  a  second  question  before  you 
have  answered  the  first,  you  will  neither  show  nor  feel 
impatience,  no  more  than  a  mother  does  that  her  child 
is  born  without  teeth.  You  will  ask  him  questions  about 
the  first  thing,  keeping  his  mind  upon  it  as  long  as  you 
think  it  safe,  learning  a  lesson  from  the  bird,  who  does  not 
encourage  her  young  to  make  long  flights  the  first  time. 
You  will  be  satisfied  if  you  can  make  his  curiosity  a  means 
of  getting  him  to  think  a  little  and  learn  a  little,  being 
sure  that  in  this  way  you  can  deepen  it,  and  so  get  him  to 
think  more  closely  and  acquire  more  knowledge. 


ATTENTION. 

Power  of  Enthusiasm.  —  It  is  due  to  the  same  principle 
—  that  what  is  adapted  to  us  interests  us  —  that  to  pupils 
the  most  interesting  thing  is  the  manifestation  of  that 
intense  form  of  interest  in  the  teacher  that  we  call  enthu- 
siasm. Arthur  Sidgwick  well  says:  "Whether  it  be  school 
lesson  or  subject  of  common  talk  out  of  school,  the  enthu- 
siast drags  the  boy's  mind  captive.  He  makes  him  attend, 
he  makes  him  interested,  he  makes  him  think.  Without 
trying  to  do  so,  he  makes  learning  seem  attractive  and 
delightful.  Boys  are  naturally  impressionable,  and  enthu- 
siasm impresses ;  they  are  naturally  imitative,  and  what- 
ever they  see  a  man  keen  about,  they  at  once  begin  to 
excite  themselves  about  it.  Whether  it  be  poetry,  history, 
politics,  art,  science,  natural  history,  or  archaeology,  the 
enthusiast  will  at  once  make  a  school  of  his  own  imitators 
about  him.  And  he  will  do  far  more  than  this.  He  will 
lift  boy  after  boy  out  of  the  barbarous  intellectual  atmos- 
phere in  which  the  natural  boy  lives  and  moves,  and  make 
him  conscious  —  though  it  be  only  dimly  conscious  —  of 
the  vast  world  of  interest  which  lies  around  in  every  direc- 
tion, waiting  till  he  gird  up  his  mental  loins  and  come  to 
explore.  This  is  the  real  result  of  a  master's  enthusiasm 
-  it  cultivates.  Under  plodding,  humdrum  teachers,  who 
will  not  put  soul  into  their  work,  a  boy  may  pass  through 
a  school  from  bottom  to  top,  doing  all  the  work  so  as  to 
pass  muster,  and  be  a  savage  at  the  end.  But  let  the 
enthusiast  catch  him,  though  but  for  a  term,  and  the 
savage  is  converted."1 

I  can  not  forbear  quoting  what  another  English  teacher 
says  on  the  same  subject :  "  To  find  the  lesson  oozing,  as 
it  were,  from  your  finger  tips ;  to  be  so  full  of  your  subject 

1  The  Practice  of  Education,  p.  63. 


IMPORTANCE    OF   INTEREST   IN   OUR  WORK.       139 

that  the  question  is  not  what  to  say,  but  what  to  leave  out ; 
and  to  feel  so  well  and  vigorous  that  your  vivacity  compels 
attention  and  interest,  and  makes  the  faces  in  front  of  you 
look  bright  contagiously  —  that  is  how  to  prepare  the 
lesson.  .  .  .  The  story  (told  by  the  Professor  at  the  Break- 
fast Table,  I  think)  of  a  tailor  lamenting  over  a  customer 
departing  empty-handed,  that  if  it  were  not  for  a  headache 
he  would  have  a  new  coat  on  that  back  in  spite  of  himself, 
is  freighted  with  truth.  There  is  a  magnetic  influence 
passing  from  a  healthy  and  alert  mind  to  all  with  whom  it 
comes  in  contact ;  that  influence  is  the  teacher's  conjuring 
wand,  and  without  it  he  will  never  bring  the  dry  bones  of 
education  to  life.  It  will  readily  be  seen  that  no  patent 
process  for  the  production  or  maintenance  of  this  influence 
can  be  found.  It  is  best  fostered  by  variety  of  life ;  by  a 
wide  experience  of  men  and  things  (not  at  all  an  easy 
thing  for  one  so  closely  tied  as  a  teacher  to  attain);  in 
short,  by  anything  that  tends  to  keep  the  heart  and  mind 
open,  and  to  make  life  interesting.  Teachers  lead  too  often 
very  dull  lives,  and  the  dullness  reacts  on  their  pupils. 
Men  and  women  who  have  to  give  out  so  much  can  hardly 
lead  too  full  and  rich  and  interesting  lives.  Their  minds 
ought  to  be  a  storehouse  of  thoughts  and  pictures  and 
recollections,  from  which  they  can  draw  at  will  to  enrich 
their  lessons  and  to  furnish  the  minds  of  their  pupils." 

Importance  of  Interest  in  our  Work.  —  It  is  indeed 
true  that  enthusiasm  is  a  gift  of  nature  conferred  on  but 
few  teachers.  But  there  is  a  degree  of  interest  within  the 
reach  of  every  one  of  us,  if  we  are  willing  to  work  for  it. 
There  is  no  danger  that  we  shall  lack  interest  in  our  sub- 
jects if  we  study  them.  When  we  think  we  know  so  much 


140 


ATTENTION. 


about  them  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  study  them  any 
more,  that  very  fact  proves  that  we  are  lacking  in  interest. 
But  interest  in  our  work  is  quite  as  essential  as  knowl- 
edge to  success  in  teaching. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  results  reached  in  the  preceding  chapters  on 
attention. 

2.  State  the  rules  given  by  Comenius,  und  show  how  each  of  them 
is  related  to  the  laws  of  attention. 

3.  Show  that  a  teacher  must  supply  the  conditions  of  both  volun- 
tary and  non-voluntary  attention. 

4.  What  is  meant  by  '•  education  values" ? 

5.  What  can  we  do  to  commend  the  subjects  we  teach  to  our 
pupils  ? 

6.  What  is  the  secret  of  interest  ? 

7.  Describe  the  curiosity  of  little  children,  and  state  what  should 
be  done  to  deepen  it. 

8.  What  is  an  important  object  of  questioning  older  pupils  ? 

9.  Explain  and  describe  the  effect  of  enthusiasm  in  awakening 
interest. 

10.  What  is  the  point  of  the  story  told  by  the  Professor  at  the 
Breakfast  Table  ? 

1 1 .  What  is  meant  by  "  humanizing  science  "  ? 


SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Dr.  Arnold  said  :  "  The  more  active  my  own  mind  is,  the  more 
it  works  upon  great  moral  and  political  points,  the  better  for  the 
school."     Account  for  the  fact. 

2.  Account    for   the    influence    of    Sheridan    at    the    battle    of 
Shenandoah. 

3.  Describe  the  Socratic  method  of  teaching,  and  account  for  its 
stimulating  effect. 


QUESTIONS.  141 

4.  What  are    the    education    values    of    arithmetic,  geography, 
grammar,  and  United  States  history  ? 

5.  Make  a  study  of  children,  as  you  have  opportunity,  to  ascertain 
the  character  of  their  attention  —  whether  (a)  it  is  easily  distracted, 
or  (<J)  hard  to  transfer  from  one  subject  to  another. 

6.  What  use  can  you  make  of  that  kind  of  knowledge  of  children  ? 

7.  How  would  you  humanize  the  subject  of  chemistry  ? 


LESSON    XVI. 

ATTENTION. 
(Continued?) 

IN  the  last  lesson  we  considered  the  question  as  to 
what  we  should  do  to  keep  the  attention  of  our  pupils 
during  recitation.  The  wider  question  —  the  question  as 
to  the  other  means  at  our  command  to  help  us  in  cultivat- 
ing the  power  of  attention  —  has  yet  to  be  examined. 

We  learned  from  Comenius  that  one  of  the  ways  of 
keeping  the  attention  of  our  pupils  during  recitation  is  to 
encourage  them  to  ask  questions ;  and  we  know  that  the 
reason  is  that  in  this  way  we  stimulate  their  curiosity,  and 
give  them  the  pleasure  of  mental  activity. 

Curiosity  of  Young  Children.  —  But  our  observations 
of  children  have  enabled  us  to  see  that  the  curiosity  of 
very  young  pupils  is  not  strong  enough  to  incite  them  to 
hard  work.  When  they  ask  us  questions,  or  when  we  ask 
them  questions  that  they  can  not  answer,  if  we  do  not 
answer  them  at  once,  they  stop  thinking  about  these 
questions,  because  they  have  so  little  curiosity. 

Curiosity  of  Older  Pupils.  —  But  when  we  are  dealing 
with  older  pupils,  we  should  make  a  different  use  of  the 
principle  of  curiosity.  Their  curiosity  is  strong  enough 
to  stimulate  them  to  harder  work.  You  can  get  their 

142 


CURIOSITY    OF    OLDER    PUPILS.  143 

attention  by  asking  questions  that  will  make  them  con- 
scious of  their  ignorance ;  and  the  realization  of  this  fact 
will  often  be  a  sufficient  motive  for  vigorous  exertion. 
When  you  should  answer  your  question,  your  own  tact 
must  determine.  It  often  happens  that  a  student  has 
interest  enough  in  a  subject  to  be  clearly  conscious  of  the 
labyrinth  of  difficulties  in  which  the  questions  of  his 
teacher  have  involved  him,  but  not  enough  to  make  him 
willing  to  undergo  the  labor  of  threading  his  way  out. 
Now,  while  we  ought  not  to  remove  difficulties  that  have 
not  been  realized,  or  which  the  pupil's  interest  might 
induce  him  to  overcome,  there  are  circumstances  under 
which  the  clearing  up  of  difficulties  may  greatly  increase 
his  interest,  and  thus  put  him  in  the  way  of  a  more  vigor- 
ous and  protracted  exertion  of  his  powers.  When  the  sub- 
ject under  consideration  lies  before  his  mind  wrapped  in 
a  fog,  a  few  direct,  luminous,  incisive  statements  from 
you  may,  like  a  brisk  wind,  clear  away  the  fog  and  reveal 
the  outlines  of  the  country  sharp  and  clear  to  your  pupil's 
mind. 

You  may  thus  give  him  that  experience  that  can  be  felt, 
but  can  not  be  described  —  that  delightful  consciousness 
of  power  which  he  realizes  when,  instead  of  groping  in 
darkness  in  an  unknown  country,  he  finds  himself  at  home, 
with  a  noonday  sun  to  guide  his  footsteps.  His  feeling  of 
weakness  gives  place  to  a  feeling  of  power.  Instead  of 
feeling  himself  overborne  and  beaten  back  by  a  superior 
force,  he  is  victor,  and  his  enemies  are  flying,  or  rather 
annihilated,  before  him.  This  delightful  experience,  this 
stepping  from  darkness  into  light,  this  transition  from 
mental  chaos  and  anarchy  into  a  region  of  order  and  law, 
is  an  exceedingly  powerful  stimulus. 


1 44  ATTENTION. 

School  Lessons.  —  But  if  you  are  to  make  the  most 
of  the  interest  excited  in  this  or  any  other  way  in 
recitation,  you  must  follow  it  up.  You  have  asked  your 
pupil  a  question,  and  set  him  to  thinking.  His  thoughts 
naturally  take  the  shape  of  a  series  of  questions,  and  he  is 
eager  to  get  answers  to  them.  What  does  he  need  to 
deepen  his  interest  ?  Books.  Or  by  a  few  well-chosen 
statements  you  have  set  his  mind  in  order.  He  knew  a 
lot  of  facts,  but  he  saw  no  connection  between  them.  His 
mind  was  like  a  house  into  which  a  lot  of  new  furniture 
had  just  been  tumbled  —  everything  was  everywhere,  and 
nothing  was  anywhere.  Your  statements  have  brought 
order  out  of  chaos.  You  have  enabled  him  to  see  that  the 
various  measures  of  Washington's  first  administration  were 
a  part  of  the  carefully  devised  plan  for  strengthening  the 
general  government  that  emanated  from  the  brain  of  the 
great  Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  He  at  once  becomes 
interested  in  Hamilton.  What  does  he  need  to  deepen 
this  interest  ?  Books.  Or  your  class  is  studying  Haw- 
thorne's The  Great  Stone  Face.  And  when  they  have 
become  thoroughly  interested  in  the  strange  and  beautiful 
allegory,  you  tell  them  of  the  man  who  wrote  it ;  of  the 
quaint  old  town  in  which  he  lived  and  died ;  of  Emerson 
and  Thoreau,  and  the  other  famous  men  who  lived  there ; 
you  try  to  interest  them  in  some  of  the  great  writers  of 
American  literature.  But  if  your  efforts  are  to  result  in 
any  permanent  deepening  of  their  interest,  they  must  have 
access  to  books. 

Without  further  illustration,  it  is  plain  that  if  you  are 
to  make  the  most  of  the  interest  you  have  excited  in 
recitation,  you  must  be  able  to  direct  them  to  a  library. 
Indeed,  to  develop  interest  in  your  pupils,  and  expect  it  to 


DISCIPLINE    AND   ATTENTION.  145 

be  self-sustaining  from  the  start,  is  as  absurd  as  it  would 
be  for  a  farmer  to  take  the  utmost  pains  in  preparing  the 
ground,  and  then  in  planting  corn,  only  to  neglect  it  as 
soon  as  he  saw  the  tiny  blades  peeping  through  the  ground, 
with  the  idea  that  his  work  was  then  done.  If  the  tiny 
blade  is  to  grow  into  a  stalk  big  enough  to  bear  the  golden 
grain,  it  must  be  carefully  cultivated.  In  like  manner,  if 
the  interest  which  teachers  excite  is  to  be  anything  more 
than  a  passing  emotion,  it  must  be  fostered  and  cultivated ; 
it  must  be  fed  by  books. 

"But  libraries  are  expensive,  and  school  committees  and 
directors  often  refuse  to  buy  them.  What  can  we  do  in 
such  a  case,  granting  all  that  you  say  about  their  useful- 
ness?" You  can  so  impress  the  idea  of  their  importance 
upon  the  community  as  to  see  t/iaj  they  are  got.  It  is 
always  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  a  library  is  only  a  collec- 
tion of  books ;  and  as  any  finite  quantity,  however  small,  is 
infinitely  greater  than  zero,  so  any  library,  however  small, 
is  infinitely  better  than  none.  This,  then,  is  one  of  the 
things  which  we  can  do  to  deepen  the  interests  of  our 
pupils,  and  so  increase  their  power  of  attention.  We 
can  set  them  to  reading  books  that  will  foster  and 
nourish  the  interests  that  have  germinated  in  our  recita- 
tion rooms. 

Discipline  and  Attention.  —  We  can  help  our  pupils  in 
the  same  direction  by  a  proper  system  of  discipline.  Car- 
penter well  says  :  "  The  influence  of  a  system  of  discipline 
by  which  each  individual  feels  himself  borne  along  as  if 
by  a  Fate,  still  more  that  of  an  instructor  possessing  a 
strong  will,  guided  by  sound  judgment  (especially  when 
united  with  qualities  that  attract  the  affection  as  well  as 


146  ATTENTION. 

command  the  respect  of  the  pupil),  greatly  aids  him  in 
learning  to  use  that  power.  As  Archbishop  Manning  has 
truly  said  :  '  During  the  earlier  period  of  our  lives  the 
potentiality  of  our  intellectual  and  moral  nature  is  elicited 
by  the  will  of  others."'  The  hours  of  study  should  be 
short,  especially  in  the  case  of  younger  children.  But 
during  those  hours  they  should  be  put  at  work  adapted  to 
their  state  of  development,  and  kept  assiduously  at  it.  No 
whispering  should  be  allowed.  The  boy  who  whispers  to 
another  calls  off  his  attention  from  his  work  —  obstructs 
the  formation  of  the  very  habit  you  are  trying  to  develop, 
the  habit  of  concentration.  No  disorder  of  any  kind  should 
be  tolerated.  With  the  utmost  kindness,  and  at  the  same 
time  with  the  utmost  firmness,  your  pupils  should  be  made 
to  feel  that  the  hours  for  study  are  for  study.  As  soon  as 
they  can  understand  them,  you  should  show  them  the 
reason  for  your  requirements.  You  should  make  them  feel 
that,  in  obeying  you,  they  are  obeying  reason,  and  not 
arbitrary  will.  You  should  make  them  feel  that  you 
require  what  you  require  because  you  must,  because  you 
would  be  false  to  the  trust  reposed  in  you  by  the  com- 
munity unless  you  did.  You  should  make  them  feel  that 
they  and  you  are  associated  together  as  pupils  and  teacher 
for  the  accomplishment  of  a  definite  purpose,  and  that 
whatever  they  or  you  need  to  do  in  order  to  accomplish 
that  purpose  must  be  done,  that  you  no  less  than  they 
have  no  choice  but  to  do  it.  And  when  they  can  appreciate 
the  truth  of  that  noteworthy  saying  of  Locke's,  "  The 
foundation  of  all  virtue  and  worth  consists  in  the  ability  to 
cross  one's  inclinations  and  follow  the  dictates  of  reason," 
you  have  in  their  own  desire  to  reach  a  high  ideal  a  power- 
ful auxiliary. 


SCHOOL   PROGRAMMES.  147 

School  Programmes.  —  It  would  doubtless  be  possible 
to  assist  pupils  to  develop  powers  of  concentration  by  a  judi- 
cious arrangement  of  school  programmes.  A  programme 
which  requires  the  hardest  work  when  the  pupil  is  least 
capable  of  working  vigorously  makes  attention  unneces- 
sarily difficult.  But  it  is  not  possible  to  say  in  detail  what 
a  judicious  programme  is,  because  the  question  as  to  the 
relative  intellectual  capacities  of  pupils  at  different  hours 
of  the  day  has  not  yet  been  answered.  To  say  that  pupils 
should  be  required  to  do  the  hardest  work  when  they  are 
most  capable  of  vigorous  mental  work,  and  the  easiest, 
when  they  are  least  capable,  does  not  take  us  a  step  nearer 
the  making  of  a  good  programme  unless  we  know  when 
they  are  most,  and  when  they  are  least,  capable  of  doing 
mental  work.  Even  if  this  were  known,  —  and  it  is  not,  — 
the  problem  would  be  complicated  by  the  fact  that  what 
one  pupil  finds  difficult,  another  finds  easy,  and  the  reverse. 
It  is  an  easy  solution  of  the  question  to  conclude  that, 
because  voluntary  muscular  energy  undergoes  certain 
fluctuations  in  the  twenty  hours,  therefore,  intellectual 
energy  does,  and  without  further  ceremony  to  decide  that 
the  hours  of  greatest  voluntary  muscular  energy  are  also 
those  of  greatest  intellectual  energy.  But  such  solutions 
have  nothing  to  recommend  them  except  their  simplicity. 
We  may  be  sure  that  there  is  no  short,  high  and  dry 
cut  to  the  goal  we  wish  to  reach.  We  shall  learn  what 
the  ideally  best  programme  is  —  in  case  there  is  such  a 
programme  —  only  by  careful  experiments  conducted 
on  a  large  scale,  only  by  studying  the  conditions  under 
which  our  pupils  seem  to  do  their  work  most  easily,  and 
by  utilizing  the  results  of  other  students  in  the  same 
field. 


ATTENTION. 

Explanation  of  Inattention.  —  Finally,  we  should  never 
permit  ourselves  to  resort  to  "laziness"  or  "stupidity"  to 
account  for  inattention  as  long  as  any  other  explanation  is 
possible.  I  have  already  quoted  that  profound  observation 
of  Pestalozzi,  "  If  our  pupils  are  inattentive,  we  should 
first  look  to  ourselves  for  the  reason."  Any  teacher  who 
earnestly  tries  to  follow  Pestalozzi's  injunction  will  be  sur- 
prised to  find  in  how  large  a  number  of  cases  inattention 
and  lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of  his  pupils  are  due  to 
causes  which  he  can  remove.  Sometimes  a  boy  is  in- 
attentive because  he  does  not  see  the  practical  value  of 
the  work  he  is  set  to  doing ;  sometimes  because  he  does 
not  understand  certain  fundamental  ideas  which,  being  in 
darkness,  necessarily  darken  the  entire  subject ;  sometimes 
also  —  sad  to  relate  —  because  the  teacher,  by  sarcastic 
and  satirical  remarks,  has  excited  the  boy's  dislike.  Grown 
people  are  sometimes  guilty  of  "  cutting  off  their  noses  to 
spite  their  faces,"  and  boys  very  often.  And  when  a 
teacher  indulges  in  sarcasm  at  the  expense  of  his  pupils, 
they  are  very  likely  to  slight  their  work  as  much  as  they 
can,  even  when  they  know  they  are  injuring  themselves, 
because  he  wants  them  to  do  it}-  Get  the  good  will  of 
your  pupils  if  you  wish  to  get  their  attention. 

"Many  a  boy  will  sit  and  seem  stolid,  and  all  the  while  resent  your 
satire  with  exasperation.  You  can  not  tell  a  sensitive  boy  by  his  look. 
He  is  not  the  shy,  dark-eyed  creature  of  the  school  tales.  He  may  just 
as  likely  be  a  ruddy,  high-spirited  person,  or  a  brawny  athlete,  or  an  ugly, 
lumpy  log  of  a  boy.  And  the  satire  may  often  be  unjust.  And,  just  or 
unjust,  nineteen  boys  out  of  twenty  hate  it.  The  worst  mistake  of  all  is 
to  use  it  among  small  boys.  .  .  .  When  they  are  ignorant,  or  inattentive, 
or  stupid,  he  (the  teacher)  begins  to  be  sarcastic  —  i.e.,  to  show  a  far 
worse  ignorance  and  stupidity  than  theirs."  —  The  Practice  of  Education, 
p.  41. 


UNINTERESTING  AND    INTERESTING  WORK.       149 

Connect   Uninteresting   Work   with   Interesting.  — 

Sometimes  also  pupils  are  inattentive  because  the  facts  of 
the  subject  have  no  natural  interest  for  them,  and  have 
never  been  connected  with  anything  that  is  interesting. 
No  observer  of  children  has  failed  to  notice  that  things 
devoid  of  interest  may  become  interesting  by  being  con- 
nected with  something  that  is  interesting. 

Revolution  in  Primary  Teaching.  —  The  revolution 
that  is  taking  place  in  the  primary  teaching  of  this  country 
is  based  at  the  outset  on  this  fact.  When  children  start  to 
school,  they  are  already  interested  in  nature  —  in  the  bugs, 
butterflies,  grasshoppers,  birds,  trees,  plants  and  flowers 
with  which  they  are  familiar.  They  are  also  interested  in 
such  stories  as  come  within  the  range  of  their  comprehen- 
sion—  stories  about  animals,  fairy  stories,  stories  of  ad- 
venture and  the  like.  The  business  of  the  primary  teacher 
is  to  work  these  interests  for  all  they  are  worth  —  to  grad- 
ually develop  the  interest  in  nature  into  an  interest  in 
science,  and  the  interest  in  stories  into  an  interest  in  liter- 
ature and  history,  and  also  to  connect  these  interests  with 
the  other  work  of  the  school  in  such  a  way  that  it  may  be 
done  in  the  most  economic  manner  possible.  To  this  end, 
the  reading,  writing,  spelling,  drawing,  number  and  lan- 
guage work  should  be  connected  with  the  study  of  nature 
and  stories  to  as  large  an  extent  as  possible.  Reading  for 
the  sake  of  pronouncing  words  is  a  stupid  task  —  suitable 
only  to  a  parrot.  But  reading  for  the  sake  of  acquiring 
information  about  something  the  pupil  is  already  interested 
in  is  a  delightful  labor.  Writing  for  the  sake  of  imitating 
a  copy  is  uninteresting.  But  writing  for  the  sake  of  giving 
expression  to  interesting  thoughts  is  a  pleasure.  What 


150 


ATTENTION. 


child  of  seven  or  eight  cares  what  six  times  twenty-two 
make  ?  But  when  he  and  five  companions  each  sees  twenty- 
two  red-winged  grasshoppers  on  a  given  excursion,  the  ques- 
tion as  to  how  many  they  have  all  seen  is  an  entirely  differ- 
ent one.    What  child  cares  to  draw  a  mere  figure,  or  some 
object  taken  to  the  school  just  for  the  sake  of  being  drawn  ? 
But  what  child  does  not  take  an  interest  in  drawing  if  he 
is  asked  to  put  on  paper  his  ideas  of  a  certain  scene,  or  to 
represent,  as  he  sees  it,  an  object  he  is  already  interested  in? 
These  illustrations  might  be  continued  indefinitely.    But 
they  will  serve  their  purpose  if  they  show  how  the  interest 
of  interesting  work  may  be  carried  over  to  uninteresting 
work,  and  how  all  the  work  of  the  school  may  in  this  way 
be  made  interesting.     It  ought  to  be  noted  also  that  such 
work  deepens  the  interest  in,  and  the  value  of,  the  work 
that  is  already  interesting.     A  child  who  draws  a  scene  as 
it  is  in  his  mind,  or  an  object  as  he  sees  it,  cares  more 
about  the  scene  and  the  object  than  he  did  before  he  drew 
them.     When  he  has  read  a  story  about  an  animal  he  is 
interested  in,  he  is  more  interested  in  it  than  he  was 
before.     When  he  has  used  numbers  to  learn  how  many 
objects  of  a  certain  class  he  has  seen,  or  what  proportion 
one  class  forms  to  another  class,  the  greater  definiteness  of 
his  ideas  is  a  source  of  pleasure.     By  connecting,  then, 
the  interesting  work  of  the  school  with  that  which  would 
otherwise  be  uninteresting,  the  uninteresting  work  not 
only  becomes  interesting  —  it  adds  to  the  value,  and  inten- 
sifies the  interest,  of  the  work  that  is  already  interesting. 

Individuality  of  Pupils  and  Inattention.  —  Sometimes 
also  boys  are  inattentive  because  we  do  not  respect  their 
individuality  —  because  we  set  them  to  doing  entirely 


QUESTIONS.  151 

uncongenial  work.  It  is  very  instructive  to  learn  that 
Darwin  was  counted  a  very  dull  boy,  and  I  think  it  quite 
likely  that  the  same  opinion  was  held  of  Edison.  The 
trouble,  of  course,  was  not  with  Darwin,  but  with  his 
teachers.  He  had  a  strong  bent  towards  the  study  of 
nature,  and  they  wanted  to  teach  him  Latin  and  Greek, 
and  make  him  memorize  books  about  nature.  If  his  teachers 
had  practiced  Pestalozzi's  injunction,  this  dull  boy  might 
have  been  transformed  into  the  most  interesting  and 
interested  student  in  their  schools.1 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE   TEXT. 

1 .  Under  what  circumstances  is  it  proper  to  ask  your  pupils  ques- 
tions that  you  do  not  answer  ? 

2.  Mention  various  ways  in  which  you  can  use  a  library  to  deepen 
the  interest  of  your  pupils. 

3.  In  what  ways  does  a  system  of  discipline  aid  you  in  developing 
your  pupils'  powers  of  attention  ? 

4.  By  what  principle  should  the  arrangement  of  a  programme 
of  studies  be  determined  ? 

5.  Mention  various  causes  of  inattention  and  lack  of  interest,  and 
state  what  can  be  done  to  remove  them. 

6.  What  is  meant  by  "respecting  the  individuality"  of  the  pupil? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  State  the  various  uses  of  questioning  pupils. 

2.  If  a  boy  liked  arithmetic,  and  disliked  geography,  or  conversely, 
how  would  you  try  to  develop  an  interest  in  the  subject  to  which  he 
was  indifferent  ? 

3.  Do  you  think  there  should  be  elective  studies  in  high  schools, 
and,  if  so,  to  what  extent  ? 

4.  Can  you  respect  the  individuality  of  students  who  are  studying 
the  same  subjects? 

5.  What  is  meant  by  "  correlation  "  ?     "  Concentration  "  ? 

1  See  Appendix  A. 


LESSON    XVII. 

KNOWING,   FEELING,   AND  WILLING. 

IN  studying  our  experience  in  order  to  ascertain  the 
nature  and  laws  of  attention,  we  have  already  observed 
three  fundamentally  different  classes  of  mental  facts.  We 
have  seen  that  what  we  perceive,  remember,  recollect,  and 
believe  —  as  the  result  of  reasoning  —  depends  on  what 
we  attend  to.  But  all  these  acts  of  mind  (perception, 
memory,  recollection,  and  reasoning)  are  alike  forms  of 
knowledge. 

Two  Kinds  of  Knowledge.  —  Perception  gives  us  what 
seems  to  be  immediate  or  direct  knowledge  of  external 
objects  —  trees,  houses,  fences,  and  the  like;  memory, 
direct  knowledge  of  past  objects  and  events ;  reasoning, 
mediate  or  indirect  knowledge  of  objects  and  events  and 
laws  —  past,  present,  and  future.  They  differ,  then,  in 
the  kinds  of  facts  of  which  they  tell  us,  and  the  way  in 
which  they  tell  us  about  them.  Perception  tells  us  of  the 
present  directly ;  memory,  of  the  past  directly ;  reasoning, 
of  past,  present,  and  future  indirectly.  But  they  agree  in 
being  forms  or  kinds  of  knowledge.  What  we  perceive, 
and  what  we  remember,  and  what  we  learn  by  reasoning, 
we  alike  know,  provided  there  has  been  no  mistake  in  the 
processes. 

152 


KNOWLEDGE    AND    FEELING.  153 

Relation  between  Knowledge  and  Feeling.  —  But  we 

have  seen  that  what  we  perceive,  remember,  etc.,  depends 
on  what  interests  us  —  on  what  gives  us  pleasure  and  pain. 
This  interest  —  this  pleasure  and  pain  —  is  a  fundamen- 
tally different  fact  from  knowledge.  Acts  of  knowing  are 
indeed  usually  accompanied  by  pleasure  or  pain;  but  the 
knowing  is  one  thing,  the  pleasure  or  pain  quite  another. 
We  shall  see  this  clearly  if  we  consider  the  effect  the 
knowledge  of  the  same  fact  produces  on  different  minds, 
or  the  same  mind  under  different  circumstances.  One 
man  reads  an  account  of  a  death ;  it  produces  no  effect, 
because  the  dead  man  was  an  entire  stranger.  Another 
reads  it  and  is  prostrated  with  grief ;  the  dead  man  was 
his  son.  Or  you  drop  your  purse,  and  you  see  it  lying  on 
the  ground,  as  you  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  with  no  feeling 
either  of  pleasure  or  pain.  But  if  you  see  it  after  you 
have  lost  it  and  have  hunted  for  it  a  long  time  in  vain, 
you  have  a  pronounced  feeling  of  pleasure. 

Different  Forms  of  Feeling.  —  All  forms  of  pleasure 
and  pain  are  called  feelings.  Between  the  pleasure  which 
comes  from  eating  a  peach  and  that  which  results  from 
solving  a  difficult  problem,  or  learning  good  news  of  a 
friend,  or  thinking  of  the  progress  of  civilization  —  be- 
tween the  pain  that  results  from  a  cut  in  the  hand  and 
that  which  results  from  the  failure  of  a  long-cherished  plan 
or  the  death  of  a  friend  —  there  is  a  long  distance.  But  the 
one  group  are  all  pleasures  ;  the  other,  all  pains.  And  what- 
ever the  source  of  the  pleasure  or  pain,  it  is  alike  feeling. 

Willing  Discriminated  from  Knowing  and  Feeling.  — 
We  saw,  also,  in  studying  attention,  that  it  often  requires 


154  KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND  WILLING. 

hard  work  to  take  our  minds  from  some  subject  that 
strongly  attracts  it.  That  effort  is  an  example  of  willing. 
We  can  easily  distinguish  willing  from  both  knowing  and 
feeling.  The  boy  who  is  invited  to  go  skating  when  he 
has  a  lesson  to  get  has  a  perfectly  definite  idea  —  knowl- 
edge—  of  what  he  is  invited  to  do.  That  idea  gives  him 
a  longing  to  go  —  feeling  —  but  he  does  not  decide  —  will 
—  to  do  it.  He  wishes  to  get  his  lesson  ;  the  thought  of 
leaving  it  unlearned  gives  him  a  form  of  pain.  And  so, 
between  the  anticipations  of  the  pleasure  the  skating  would 
give  him  and  the  pain  he  feels  at  thinking  of  leaving  his 
lesson  unlearned,  he  is  undecided  for  some  minutes  —  he 
wills  neither  to  go  nor  not  to  go.  Presently  he  decides  — 
wills.  He  says,  "  I  will  go,"  and  immediately  makes 
preparations  to  start ;  or,  "  I  will  not  go,"  and  resolutely 
attempts  to  put  all  thought  of  skating  out  of  his  mind. 

No  matter  what  you  do  —  whether  you  walk,  sing,  talk, 
jump,  think  of  this  or  that  —  the  act  of  the  mind  which 
initiates  your  activity,  provided  there  is   such  an  act  — 
which  is  not  always  the  case  —  is  an  act  of  the  will. 

Relation  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing  to  the 
Self.  —  These  three  classes  of  facts  are  all  experiences  of 
the  same  mind  or  self.  You  say,  "/know,  / feel,  /  will," 
and  you  say  rightly.  The  self  that  knows  is  the  self  that 
feels  and  wills.  Still  it  is  convenient  to  have  names  that 
denote  particular  groups  of  these  activities  of  the  mind. 
As  it  saves  circumlocution  to  have  one  name  to  denote 
the  business  of  a  man  —  farmer  —  and  another  his  party 
ties  —  Republican  —  although  the  same  man  is  both  farmer 
and  Republican,  so  we  speak  of  the  mind  as  intellect  when 
we  think  of  it  as  possessing  and  exercising  the  power  to 


OPPOSITION   OF  KNOWING  AND  WILLING.         155 

know ;  sensibility,  when  we  think  of  it  as  possessing  and 
exercising  the  power  to  feel ;  will,  when  we  think  of  it  as 
possessing  and  exercising  the  power  to  will.  But  it  is  the 
one  indivisible  mind  that  is  intellect,  sensibility,  and  will. 

We  shall  find  upon  observation  that  the  mind  does 
nothing  but  know,  feel,  and  will.  Probably  you  do  not  like 
to  call  that  act  of  the  mind  by  which  it  reaches  a  false 
conclusion  an  act  of  knowledge,  and  it  is  not  as  the  word 
is  popularly  used.  But,  as  a  mental  fact,  what  is  the 
difference  between  the  act  of  the  mind  by  which  it  reaches 
a  true  conclusion  and  that  by  which  it  reaches  one  that  is 
false  ?  None  whatever,  in  many  cases.  A  child  sees  an 
old  man  with  white  whiskers,  and  is  *told  that  they  were 
black  when  he  was  young.  Her  papa  has  black  whiskers, 
and  so  she  asks :  "  Papa,  were  your  whiskers  white  when 
you  were  young  ? "  Her  conclusion  is  false,  and  yet  her 
mental  process  is  exactly  like  many  that  lead  her  to  con- 
clusions that  are  true.  So  also  memory  often  misleads, 
and  we  often  think  we  perceive  what  does  not  exist.  But 
as  mental  facts  there  is  no  difference  between  memory 
that  deceives  and  memory  that  tells  the  truth  —  between 
acts  of  perception  that  correspond  with  external  objects 
and  those  that  do  not. 

Although  intellect,  sensibility,  and  will  are  but  different 
names  of  the  one  mind,  as  feeling  and  willing  and  know- 
ing, there  is  scarcely  a  moment  in  our  waking  hours  when 
we  are  not  doing  all  three  at  the  same  time.  Examine 
our  minds  when  we  will,  and  we  shall  always  find  ourselves 
knowing,  and  generally  feeling  and  willing. 

Opposition  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing. — Never- 
theless we  can  not  know  intensely  and  feel  or  will  in- 


156  KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND  WILLING. 

tensely  at  the  same  time ;  or  feel  intensely,  and  know  or 
feel  intensely  at  the  same  time. 

Some  of  the  illustrations  of  the  effects  of  attention  will 
serve  to  illustrate  this  law  of  the  mind  also.  When  Car- 
penter was  engaged  in  lecturing,  he  forgot  his  pain.  Why? 
Because  pain  is  a  feeling  ;  and  when  he  was  lecturing  he 
was  exercising  his  powers  to  know  very  vigorously.  A  mad 
man  is  an  insane  man  —  one  whose  knowing  powers  are 
disarranged.  Why  is  it  that  we  sometimes  call  an  angry 
man  mad  ?  Because  anger  is  a  state  of  intense  feeling, 
and  a  man  in  such  a  state  often  does  as  foolish  things  as 
though  he  were  insane.  The  expression  "wild  with  grief" 
has  a  similar  significance,  illustrates  the  same  law.  You 
have  noticed  also  that  you  do  not  make  much  progress  in 
those  studies  which  interest  you  so  little  as  to  make  it 
necessary  for  you  to  put  forth  a  great  deal  of  effort  to 
keep  your  mind  on  them.  Why  ?  Because  you  have 
to  will  so  energetically  to  concentrate  your  attention  that 
there  is  little  energy  left  for  knowing. 

The  practical  rules  which  are  based  upon  this  law  are 
so  evident  that  it  is  needless  to  enlarge  upon  them.  You 
know  that  when  your  pupils  are  amused  they  do  not  study 
much,  because  amusement  —  a  pleasurable  feeling  —  is  a 
hindrance  to  that  concentration  of  mind  which  we  call 
study  —  knowing. 

The  law  that  I  have  been  illustrating  is  called  the  opposi- 
tion or  antagonism  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing. 

Interdependence  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing.  — 

Notwithstanding  this  opposition,  there  is  an  interdepend- 
ence of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing.  When  you  hurt 
your  hand  —  feeling  —  you  know  that  you  hurt  it,  and  you 


IMPORTANCE   TO   THE   TEACHER.  157 

try  to  relieve  the  pain  —  willing.  Sometimes  you  have 
what  you  call  the  "  blues  "  -  you  feel  depressed  without 
knowing  why.  Apart  from  that  case,  and  bodily  pleasures 
and  pains,  all  feeling  depends  upon  knowing.  What  angers 
you  or  grieves  you  ?  Something  you  know.  When  your 
so-called  friends  backbite  you,  it  does  not  affect  you  until 
you  know  it ;  the  misfortune  that  overtakes  your  absent 
friends  does  not  trouble  you  until  the  news  has  reached 
you.  The  dependence  of  knowing  on  feeling  I  have  illus- 
strated  at  length  in  the  lesson  on  attention.  I  tried  to 
show  how  necessary  interest  is  to  attention,  and  that  is 
only  another  way  of  stating  the  dependence  of  knowing,  so 
far  as  it  results  from  involuntary  attention,  upon  feeling. 
The  facts  of  voluntary  attention  again  illustrate  the  de- 
pendence of  the  will  on  feeling.  I  will  to  do  this  or  that 
because  of  some  pleasure  or  benefit  —  and  that,  when 
analyzed,  will  be  found  to  consist  of  some  form  of  pleasure 
which  I  hope  to  gain,  or  of  some  pain  which  I  hope  to 
avoid. 

Importance  of  this  Fact  to  the  Teacher.  —  This  fact  of 
the  interdependence  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing  is,  as 
we  know,  of  cardinal  importance  to  the  teacher.  Teachers 
are  coming  to  feel  the  importance  of  knowing  the  contents 
of  their  pupils'  minds,  in  order  that  they  may  adapt  their 
teaching  to  them.  To  go  from  the  known  to  the  unknown 
is  to  make  what  the  pupil  knows  a  starting-point  from 
which  to  lead  him  to  something  he  does  not  know.  Plainly 
any  attempt  to  explain  the  unknown  will  be  a  failure  un- 
less the  explanation  is  made  in  terms  known  to  the  pupil. 
For  this  reason  intelligent  teachers  are  always  trying  to 
make  a  map  of  their  pupils'  minds,  that  they  may  learn 


158  KNOWING,  FEELING,   AND  WILLING. 

what  points  they  can  help  their  pupils  to  start  from  in 
making  excursions  into  the  unknown. 

But  there  is  another  fact  just  as  important  which  we  are 
more  likely  to  overlook.  When  you  have  arranged  an  ex- 
cursion, there  is  something  else  you  must  do  before  you 
can  be  sure  it  will  be  a  success ;  you  must  see  to  it  that 
people  have  a  sufficient  motive  to  go  on  it.  So  also,  when 
you  have  planned  a  mental  excursion  for  your  pupils, 
when  you  have  found  a  place  from  which  they  can  start, 
before  you  can  be  sure  of  their  company,  you  must  be  sure 
that  they  have  a  sufficient  motive  for  going  with  you. 
Dropping  the  figure,  it  is  not  enough  for  you  to  explain 
things  so  that  your  pupils  can  understand  you  ;  you  must 
see  to  it  that  they  have  a  motive  to  make  the  neces- 
sary exertion.  What  wind  is  to  a  sailing  vessel,  and 
water  to  a  water-mill,  and  steam  to  a  steam-engine,  that 
motives — feelings  of  some  sort  —  are  to  all  intellectual 
activity.  It  is  not  enough  to  build  railroads  and  cars  and 
steam-engines  ;  coal  must  be  mined  and  water  must  be 
converted  into  steam,  or  the  cars  will  never  leave  the 
depot. 

Mistake  of  the  Herbartians.  —  But  I  do  not  mean  to 
intimate  that  interest  is  the  only  motive  to  which  the 
teacher  can  appeal.  Far  from  it.  This  mistake,  as  I 
deem  it,  is  the  fundamental  error  of  the  Herbartians. 
Following  in  the  footsteps  of  their  master,  they  undertake 
to  construct  a  philosophy  of  education  in  which  no  place 
is  left  for  the  action  of  the  will,  and  in  which  there  is  no 
need  of  any.  As  I  apprehend  it,  education  is  the  process 
by  which  a  pupil  is  gradually  elevated  from  a  condition  in 
which  he  is  governed  by  the  interests  pertaining  to  sense, 


WHICH    IS   A   GOOD    SCHOOL?  159 

to  the  interests  pertaining  to  reason.  But  this  elevation 
is  not  possible  except  through  a  constant  appeal  to  the 
will.  The  office  of  the  will  is  not  to  compel  the  mind  to 
any  line  of  activity  in  the  absence  of  interests  —  that  would 
be  impossible  —  but  of  two  or  more  interests  before  the 
mind  at  any  moment,  to  choose  between  them  in  harmony 
with  the  conclusions  of  reason. 

Which  is  a  Good  School  ?  —  The  clear  perception  of 
the  necessity  of  motives  and  of  the  enormous  difference  in 
the  educational  value  of  the  motives  which  you  may  em- 
ploy, will  give  you  a  new  test  for  determining  the  excel- 
lence of  a  school.  You  go  into  a  school ;  the  order  is 
excellent,  the  lessons  well  prepared.  You  say,  "  That's  a 
good  school."  But  can  you  be  sure  of  that  without  further 
examination  ?  You  know  indeed  that  good  results  are 
reached  ;  but  before  you  can  decide  as  to  the  character  of 
the  school,  you  must  know  what  means  are  employed  to 
reach  them  —  you  must  know  what  motives  the  teacher 
appeals  to.  Are  the  pupils  quiet  simply  through  fear  ? 
Then  all  we  can  say  is  that  the  school  has  one  element  of 
a  good  school  —  order  —  but  that  the  wrong  motives  are 
relied  on  to  get  it.  Do  they  learn  their  lessons  to  avoid 
punishment  ?  Then  again  I  say  the  wrong  motives  are 
appealed  to.  Good  teaching  appeals  to  motives  that  will 
tend  to  make  pupils  studious  through  life.  How  long  will 
the  fear  of  punishment  influence  pupils  ?  As  long  as  there 
is  a  teacher  to  inflict  punishment.  Indeed,  as  we  have 
seen,  it  is  not  enough  to  make  instruction  interesting. 
Volkman  well  says  that  the  precept  of  modern  pedagogy 
is,  "  Instruct  in  such  a  way  that  an  interest  may  awake 
and  remain  active  for  life." 


160  KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND  WILLING. 

Emulation. — The  question  as  to  how  far  emulation 
should  be  appealed  to  is  undoubtedly  difficult,  but  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  it  is  not  to  be  condemned  alto- 
gether, as  some  theorists  and  idealists  would  have  it. 
Where  it  is  used  to  stimulate  the  idle  as  well  as  the 
industrious,  the  weak  as  well  as  the  strong,  it  is  an 
altogether  proper  and  valuable  motive  to  appeal  to.  In 
that  suggestive  and  stimulating  book,  Educational  Re- 
formers, the  author,  Mr.  Quick,  gives  an  interesting  and 
instructive  illustration  of  some  excellent  work  which  the 
principle  of  emulation  may  be  made  to  do.  "  Let  me  tell 
you,"  he  says  in  an  imaginary  conversation  with  a  friend, 
"  of  one  form  of  stimulus  which  seemed  to  work  well  and 
was  free  from  most  of  the  objections  you  are  thinking  of. 
When  I  had  a  small  school  of  my  own,  in  which  there 
were  only  young  boys,  I  put  up  in  the  school-room  a  list 
of  the  boys'  names,  in  alphabetical  order,  with  blank 
spaces  after  the  names.  I  looked  over  the  boys'  written 
work  very  carefully,  and  whenever  I  came  across  any 
written  exercise  evidently  done  with  great  painstaking, 
and,  for  that  boy,  with  more  than  ordinary  success,  I 
marked  it  with  a  G,  and  I  put  the  G  in  one  of  the  spaces 
after  that  boy's  name  in  the  list  hung  up  in  the  school- 
room. When  the  school  collectively  had  a  fixed  number 
of  G's,  we  had  an  extra  half-holiday.  The  announcement 
of  a  G  was  therefore  always  hailed  with  delight."  —  P.  530, 
Rev.  Ed. 

This  method  tended  to  make  the  boy  emulate  his  past 
self,  and  that  was  its  chief  excellence.  It  was  not  the 
merit  of  a  boy's  work,  in  comparison  with  the  work  of 
other  boys,  that  won  a  G,  but  the  merit  in  comparison 
with  his  own  past  performances.  But  I  do  not  mean  to 


QUESTIONS.  l6l 

imply  that  it  is  never  proper  to  try  to  get  our  pupils  to 
work  by  inducing  them  to  try  to  excel  each  other.  Far 
from  it.  A  boy  who  feels  that  he  is  a  blockhead  thinks 
that  it  is  not  worth  while  for  him  to  try  to  do  anything. 
Each  pupil  should  be  made  to  feel  that  there  is  some 
thing  in  which  he  can  excel,  and  we  should  regard  it  as 
one  of  our  most  important  duties  to  try  to  help  him  to 
find  what  that  thing  is.  We  should  therefore  always  be 
on  the  alert  to  detect  any  signs  of  excellence  in  the  work 
of  the  dull  boys  and  girls,  and  be  quick  to  commend  it. 
I  have  already  spoken  of  a  boy  who  could  not  spell  one 
word  in  four  in  a  spelling  lesson  after  hours  of  study.  But 
he  was  excellent  in  arithmetic,  and  it  was  altogether 
proper  for  his  teacher  to  praise  his  work  in  that  subject  as 
highly  as  it  would  bear. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE   TEXT. 

1 .  What  is  the  difference  between  mediate  and  immediate  knowl- 
edge? 

2.  Define  intellect,  sensibility,  and  will. 

3.  Define  and  give  examples  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing. 

4.  Why  are  erroneous  reasonings  classed  as  knowing  ? 

5.  What  is  meant  by  the  opposition  of  knowing,  feeling,  and 
willing  ? 

6.  What  is  meant  by  their  interdependence  ? 

7.  Illustrate  both  from  your  own  observation  and  experience. 

8.  What  is  the  test  of  a  good  school? 

9.  What  is  one  of  the  most  important  duties  of  a  teacher  ? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

I.    Show  in  detail  the  relation  between  the  conclusions  reached 
as  to  the  conditions  of  attention  and  those  reached  in  this  chapter. 


162  KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND  WILLING. 

2.  Can  you  bring  the  law  of  the  antagonism  between  knowing, 
feeling,  and  willing  under  a  wider  law  ? 

3.  Mention  ways  in  which  the  principle  of  emulation  may  be  used 
to  get  altogether  useful  results. 

4.  Give  examples  of  erroneous  reasonings  in  children,  and  show 
their  resemblance  to  correct  reasonings. 


LESSON    XVIII. 

SENSATION. 

IN  the  last  lesson  we  picked  out  the  threads  of  which 
the  tangled  web  of  our  conscious  life  is  composed.  We 
learned  that,  no  matter  what  subject  stands  in  the  centre 
of  the  field  of  consciousness  —  whether  the  toys  of  the 
child,  the  games  of  the  boy,  the  ambitions  of  the  young 
man,  the  absorbing  occupations  of  maturity,  or  the  retro- 
spective reveries  of  old  age  —  our  entire  mental  life  con- 
sists of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing. 

If  my  object  were  to  discuss,  even  in  a  superficial  way, 
these  various  phases  of  our  mental  life,  it  would  be  proper 
now  to  try  to  ascertain  the  strands  of  which  these  threads 
are  composed,  and  show  how  they  were  twisted  into  their 
present  form  in  our  experience  —  to  break  up  the  complex 
forms  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing,  of  which  we  are 
conscious,  into  their  elements,  and  then  trace  their  growth 
from  their  feeble  beginnings  up  to  the  forms  in  which  we 
find  them. 

But  I  have  no  such  purpose.  I  intend  from  this  point 
to  confine  myself  to  the  intellectual  or  knowing  side  of  the 
mental  life,  and  to  those  phases  of  it  that  have  most  inter- 
est for  us  as  teachers.  But  even  here  lack  of  space  pre- 
vents me  from  pursuing  a  strictly  logical  course  —  from 

163 


T64  SENSATION. 

trying  to  break  up  the  complex  forms  of  knowing  of  which 
we  are  conscious,  in  order  to  ascertain  their  elements. 

Fortunately,  however,  we  can  be  sure  of  some  of  those 
elements,  at  any  rate,  without  any  elaborate  analysis.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  we  should  never  know  anything  of  the 
objects  about  us  were  it  not  for  their  action  upon  the 
senses.  We  see  that  persons  born  blind  have  no  ideas  of 
colors  —  that  those  born  deaf  have  no  ideas  of  sounds; 
and  it  is  evident  that,  if  a  being  were  born  without  any  of 
the  senses,  he  would  remain  in  absolute  ignorance  of  the 
external  world,  even  supposing  it  were  possible  for  him  to 
have  any  mental  life  at  all. 

Antecedents  of  Sensations.  —  We  can  be  sure,  then, 
that  sensations  are  a  part,  at  any  rate,  of  the  elements  of 
which  our  intellectual  life  is  composed.  Evidently,  there- 
fore, in  discussing  the  intellect,  the  subject  to  begin  with 
is  sensation. 

But  what  is  a  sensation  ?  If  you  ever  watched  a  hunter, 
at  a  little  distance  from  you,  in  the  act  of  firing  at  a  bird, 
you  doubtless  noticed  that  you  saw  the  smoke  before  you 
heard  the  report  of  his  gun.  The  reason  is,  you  say,  that, 
as  sound  does  not  travel  as  fast  as  light,  you  saw  the 
smoke  before  you  heard  the  report,  because  the  sound  was 
outstripped  in  the  race.  But  what  do  you  mean  when  you 
say  that  sound  travels?  Surely  not  that  the  sensation 
traveled,  because  there  was  no  sensation  there.  Vibrations 
of  air  alone  were  there  —  not  sensations.  The  only  imme- 
diate result  of  the  firing  of  the  gun  was  a  rapid  change  in 
the  position  of  the  particles  of  air  —  not  sound  at  all,  but 
something  which  we  could  see  if  air  were  visible,  and  if 
the  eye  were  quick  and  keen  enough  to  follow  its  rapid 


THESE  ANTECEDENTS  ARE  PHYSICAL  FACTS.       165 

changes.  These  vibrations  of  air  do  indeed  travel  in  such 
cases ;  and  as  we  in  imagination  follow  them  as  they 
radiate  from  the  hunter  as  a  centre,  we  can  realize  that 
what  we  are  following  is  not  sensation,  but  motion.  Pres- 
ently, by  means  of  the  mechanism  of  the  organ  of  hearing, 
they  reach  the  terminal  fibres  of  the  auditory  nerve.  Still 
there  is  only  motion.  The  vibrating  particles  of  air  cause 
a  change  in  the  particles  in  these  terminal  fibres,  and 
these  in  the  particles  next  to  them,  and  so  on,  until  the 
brain  centre  is  reached.  Still  we  have  nothing  but  motion. 
But  the  change  in  the  brain  centre  is  followed  by  some- 
thing that  is  not  motion  —  by  that  unique  mental  fact 
which  we  call  a  sensation  of  sound. 

These  Antecedents  are  Physical  Facts.  —  You  remem- 
ber that  a  mental  fact  is  one  known  or  knowable  by  but 
one  person  directly,  while  a  physical  fact  may  be  known 
by  any  number  of  persons  —  certain  conditions  being  com- 
plied with.  Evidently  all  the  antecedents  of  the  sensation 
of  sound  which  we  have  considered  are  physical  facts. 
The  firing  of  a  gun  is  a  physical  fact,  since  any  number 
of  people  can  see  it  at  the  same  time.  Although  we  can 
not  say  as  much  of  the  vibrating  air,  the  reason  is  not 
because  of  the  nature  of  the  fact,  but  because  of  defects  in 
our  senses.  If  our  senses  were  more  acute,  a  large  num- 
ber of  people  might  feel  the  vibrations  of  the  air  that 
result  from  the  firing  of  a  gun,  and  hence  it  is  a  physical 
fact.  So  also  of  the  next  antecedent,  the  changes  in  the 
auditory  nerve  produced  by  the  vibrations  of  the  air.  Of 
course  no  one  has  ever  seen  them,  because,  in  the  first 
place,  the  nerve  itself  can  not  be  seen ;  and  in  the  second 
place,  if  it  could,  its  particles  are  so  exceedingly  small  that 


1 66  SENSATION. 

no  changes  in  them  could  be  seen.  But  here  again  the 
reason  is  not  because  of  the  nature  of  the  fact,  but  of  the 
conditions  under  which  it  exists,  and  of  defects  in  our 
senses.  Plainly  the  same  is  true  ot  the  changes  in  the 
brain,  which,  like  those  in  the  auditory  nerve,  are  physical 
facts.  But  directly  after  these  changes  in  the  brain  — 
perhaps,  indeed,  contemporaneous  with  them  —  a  fact 
occurs  utterly  unlike  the  series  of  facts  that  preceded  it  — 
a  fact  which,  because  of  its  very  nature,  is  knowable  only 
by  the  person  experiencing  it  —  and  that  fact  is  the  sen- 
sation. 

Suppose  that  the  stars  had  been  blotted  out  of  existence, 
and  that  they  began  to  exist  again  while  you  were  looking 
up  at  the  sky  on  a  dark  night,  would  they  immediately 
give  you  a  sensation  of  sight  ?  Certainly  not.  The  waves 
of  light  would  travel  for  years  before  they  reach  your  eyes, 
and  even  then  there  would  be  no  sensation.  The  changes 
in  the  retina  of  your  eye  would  have  to  be  communicated 
to  the  optic  nerve,  and  then  to  the  brain  centre,  before 
there  could  be  a  sensation. 

The  Four  Antecedents.  —  These  examples  enable  us  to 
distinguish  the  several  antecedents  that  precede  sensation : l 

i .  An  exciting  cause  —  something  to  produce  a  change 
in  the  ends  of  the  nerves. 

.  2.  The  action  of  this  cause  upon  the  nerves.  Vibrating 
air  that  does  not  reach  the  auditory  nerve  does  not  tend  to 
produce  a  sensation  of  sound. 

3.  That  change  which  takes  place  in  the  nerves  in  con- 
sequence of  the  effect  produced  by  the  exciting  cause  upon 
the  particles  of  the  nerve  with  which  it  comes  in  contact. 

1  See  Lindner's  Psychology,  p.  32. 


WHICH    CAN    BE    DISPENSED   WITH?  167 

What  the  nature  of  that  change  is  no  one  knows,  except 
that  it  is  some  kind  of  motion.  You  have  often  seen  boys 
stand  a  lot  of  bricks  in  a  row,  so  that  when  one  was  pushed 
down  it  fell  against  the  next,  and  it  against  the  one  next  it, 
until  all  were  thrown  down.  Spencer  compares  the  effect 
produced  by  a  falling  brick  upon  the  rest  of  the  row  in  the 
above  case  to  the  effect  produced  by  the  change  in  the 
particles  of  the  end  of  the  nerve  upon  the  rest  of  them  — 
not,  of  course,  with  the  idea  that  there  is  any  real  resem- 
blance in  the  two  cases,  but  in  order  to  help  us  imagine 
how  a  change  in  one  part  of  the  nerve  might  be  communi- 
cated to  the  whole  of  it. 

4.  The  change  in  the  brain  centre  in  consequence  of 
this  change  in  the  nerve. 

Which  of  those  can  be  Dispensed  with  ?  —  Inasmuch 
as  it  is  this  change  that  immediately  precedes  and  occa- 
sions or  conditions  the  sensation,  we  would  naturally 
suppose  that,  if  there  were  any  way  of  producing  it 
without  stimulating  the  nerve  that  leads  to  it,  the  same 
sensation  would  exist  that  ordinarily  results  from  stimu- 
lating the  nerve.  The  usual  method  of  ringing  a  bell 
is  by  pulling  the  bell-rope.1  But  as  the  sole  utility  of 
pulling  the  rope  is  to  make  the  bell  swing,  so  that  its 
tongue  may  strike  against  its  sides,  and  as  the  bell  will 
ring  just  as  well  when  from  any  other  cause  its  tongue 
is  put  in  motion,  so  we  would  suppose  that,  inasmuch  as 
the  sole  function  of  the  nerves  leading  to  the  brain  in 
causing  sensation  is  to  cause  a  change  in  the  brain  centres, 
if  in  any  way  that  change  is  produced  without  the  agency 
of  the  nerve,  the  sensations  would  exist  all  the  same. 

1  This  illustration  was  suggested  by  one  used  by  Taine. 


1 68  SENSATION. 

There    are    many  facts    indicating  that    this  supposition 
is  true. 

Blindfolded  Chess-players.  —  It  is  well  known  that 
many  chess-players  can  play  with  great  skill  with  their 
eyes  closed  and  their  faces  turned  towards  the  wall.  A 
man  who  possessed  this  power  in  a  high  degree  gave  the 
following  account  of  it :  "When  I  am  in  my  corner,  facing 
the  wall,  I  see  simultaneously  the  chess-board  and  all  the 
pieces  as  they  were  in  reality  after  the  last  move ;  and  as 
each  piece  is  moved  I  see  the  whole  chess-board,  with  the 
new  change  effected.  ...  It  is  far  easier  to  deceive  me 
when  I  watch  the  board  than  otherwise  ;  in  fact,  when 
I  am  in  my  corner,  I  defy  any  one  to  mislead  me  as  to  the 
position  of  a  piece  without  my  afterwards  detecting  it.  ... 
I  see  the  piece,  the  square,  and  the  color,  exactly  as  the 
workman  made  them  —  that  is,  I  see  the  chess-board 
standing  before  my  adversary;  or,  at  all  events,  I  have  an 
exact  representation  of  it,  and  not  that  of  another  board." 
—  Taine's  Intelligence,  p.  38. 

The  same  author  narrates. many  other  facts  that  point  in 
the  same  direction  —  among  others  the  following  :  "  An 
English  painter,  whose  rapidity  of  execution  was  marvelous, 
explained  his  mode  of  work  in  this  way :  '  When  a  sitter 
came,  I  looked  at  him  attentively  for  half  an  hour,  sketch- 
ing from  time  to  time  on  the  canvas.  I  wanted  no  more. 
I  put  away  my  canvas  and  took  another  sitter.  When  I 
wished  to  resume  my  first  portrait,  /  took  the  man  and  sat 
him  in  the  chair,  where  I  saw  him  as  distinctly  as  if  he 
had  been  before  me  in  his  own  proper  person  —  I  may 
almost  say  more  vividly.  I  looked  from  time  to  time  atj 
the  imaginary  figure,  then  worked  with  my  pencil,  then 


EXAMPLES    OF   SENSATION.  169 

referred  to  the  countenance,  and  so  on,  just  as  I  should 
have  done  had  the  sitter  been  there.  When  I  looked  at 
the  chair  I  saw  the  man.  Gradually  I  began  to  lose  the 
distinction  between  the  imaginary  figure  and  the  real  per- 
son, and  sometimes  disputed  with  sitters  that  they  had 
been  with  me  the  day  before.  At  last  I  was  sure  of  it, 
and  then  —  all  is  confusion.  ...  I  lost  my  senses,  and 
was  thirty  years  in  an  asylum.'"1 

These  are  a  few  of  many  cases  that  might  be  cited  to 
show  that  sensations  often  exist  when  the  nerve  that  leads 
to  the  brain  is  not  stimulated.  If  we  should  hear  a  bell 
ring  when  the  rope  was  not  pulled,  we  should  be  sure  that 
the  same  effect  (swinging  of  the  bell)  existed  as  when  the 
rope  was  pulled.  So,  likewise,  when  sensations  exist  in 
the  manner  described  above,  one  can  scarcely  help  believ- 
ing that  the  bell  was  swinging  without  the  rope  being 
pulled  —  that  there  was  the  change  in  the  cortical  centre 
that  occasions  and  conditions  sensation  without  the  stimu- 
lation of  the  nerve  that  usually  causes  it. 

These  four  physical  antecedents,  then  —  the  exciting 
cause,  its  action  upon  the  nerve,  change  in  the  nerve, 
changes  in  the  brain  —  usually  precede  the  mental  fact 
that  we  call  sensation. 

Examples  of  Sensation.  —  If  now  you  were  asked  to 
give  examples  of  sensation,  would  you  mention  the  hearing 
of  a  drum  and  the  seeing  of  a  rose  ?  I  do  not  believe  you 
would.  Let  us  run  over  the  series  of  facts  that  result 
from  the  beating  of  a  drum  —  vibrating  air,  action  upon 
the  auditory  nerve,  change  all  along  the  auditory  nerve, 
change  in  the  brain  —  and  see  if  we  can  not  distinguish 

1  Taine's  Intelligence,  p.  46. 


I7O  SENSATION. 

between  the  next  term,  the  sensation,  and  the  hearing  of 
the  drum.  If  you  beat  a  drum  in  the  presence  of  a  new- 
born babe,  will  he  hear  it  ?  No ;  he  will  have  a  sensation 
of  sound,  but  he  will  not  hear  the  drum.  We  may  have 
sensations  of  sound,  and  not  hear  anything  ;  sensations  of 
color,  and  not  see  anything ;  sensations  of  smell,  and  not 
smell  anything ;  sensations  of  touch,  and  not  touch  any- 
thing ;  sensations  of  taste,  and  not  taste  anything. 

What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  you  see  an  apple  ? 
You  mean,  among  other  things,  that  you  see  a  round 
object,  good  to  eat,  and  with  a  pleasant  odor  when  brought 
near  the  nose.  Do  you  see  its  odor  ?  No  ;  you  learn  the 
odor  of  things  through  the  sense  of  smell.  Do  you  see  its 
taste  ?  Again,  no ;  you  learn  the  taste  of  things  through 
the  sense  of  taste.  Do  you  see  its  roundness  ?  No  ;  you 
learn  the  shape  of  things  by  the  sense  of  touch  and  the 
muscular  sense.  How,  then,  are  you  able  to  know  by 
sight  alone  that  an  object  before  you  has  a  certain  shape, 
taste,  odor,  etc.  ? 

To  answer  that  question,  suppose  you  ask  yourself  what 
a  man  would  know  of  an  apple  who  saw  one  for  the  first 
time,  and  who  had  never  heard  of  one  before.  He  would 
know  its  shape,  but  he  would  know  nothing  of  its  odor 
and  taste.  If  he  tastes  and  smells  the  apple,  the  next 
time  he  sees  an  object  resembling  it  closely  in  appear- 
ance, it  will  be  likely  to  occur  to  him  that  it  resembles 
it  in  taste  and  smell  also  —  in  other  words,  that  it  is  an 
apple. 

There  is,  you  observe,  a  great  difference  between  the 
experience  of  color  which  you  have  when  you  are  looking 
at  an  apple,  and  the  ideas  of  odor  and  taste  that  it  sug- 
gests. The  experience  of  color  is  a  present  sensation ; 


DEFINITION   OF   SENSATION.  17  I 

the  ideas  of  odor  and  taste  which  it  suggests  are  recollec- 
tions of  past  sensations  of  taste  and  smell. 

Definition  of  Sensation.  —  We  are  now  ready  for  the 
definition  of  sensation.  A  sensation  is  that  simple  mental 
fact  that,  under  normal  circumstances,  directly  follows  the 
last  change  in  the  brain  in  consequence  of  the  stimulation 
of  a  sensory  nerve. 

Note  carefully  the  italicized  words.  I  say,  "directly 
follows."  If  we  bear  that  in  mind,  we  shall  not  confuse 
the  sensation  with  what  it  suggests.  The  color  of  an 
apple  suggests  its  taste  and  odor ;  but  until  you  actually 
taste  and  smell  it,  its  taste  and  smell  are  not  sensations, 
because  they  do  not  directly  follow  the  last  change  in  the 
brain  resulting  from  the  stimulation  of  a  sensory  nerve. 
The  only  thing  that  directly  follows  the  last  change  in  the 
brain  is  the  sensation  of  color ;  the  thought  of  the  taste 
and  smell  of  the  apple  are  the  result  of  the  sensation,  so 
that  this  change  in  the  brain  makes  you  think  of  its  smell 
and  taste  through  the  sensation,  or  indirectly. 

If  we  bear  in  mind  the  significance  of  the  word  "  simple," 
it  will  save  us  from  the  same  mistake.  When  you  are  see- 
ing, hearing,  touching,  and  tasting  things,  your  experience 
is  not  simple.  You  have  a  sensation,  and  with  it  the 
recollection  of  sensations  that  it  suggests. 

Sensations  of  Sight  and  Seeing.  —  We  can  now  see 

how  we  can  have  a  sensation  of  sight  without  seeing  any- 
thing. If  you  are  walking  along  a  road,  the  various  objects 
within  the  range  of  your  vision  probably  produce  sensations 
of  sight.  Will  you  see  the  objects  in  case  they  do  ?  That 
depends  on  whether  they  suggest  the  recollection  of  past 


172  SENSATION. 

sensations.  But,  as  we  know,  what  we  recollect  depends 
on  what  we  attend  to.  When,  therefore,  you  are  absorbed 
in  thought,  the  chances  are  that  you  will  see  very  few  of 
the  objects  that  give  you  sensations  of  sight. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE  TEXT. 

1 .  Summarize  the  results  reached  in  the  last  lesson. 

2.  What  would  be  the  logical  course  if  one  intended  to  write  a 
comprehensive  treatise  on  the  subject  of  Psychology,  and  why  ? 

3.  Show  that  a  large  part  of  our  knowledge  takes  its  rise  in  sen- 
sations. 

4.  Give  examples  of  sensations  from  each  of  the  five  senses,  dis- 
criminating carefully  their  physical  antecedents  from  the  sensation. 

5.  Which  of  these  physical  antecedents  may  be  dispensed  with 
without  preventing  the  sensation  from  existing,  and  why? 

6.  Define  sensation.    Distinguish  it  from  what  it  suggests. 

7.  How  can  we  have  sensations  of  sight  without  seeing  anything  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  How  would  you  explain  the  sensations  experienced  in  dreaming? 

2.  If  an  explosion  were  to  take  place  on  a  desert,  in  the  absence 
of  any  mind,  would  there  be  any  sound  ? 

3.  Is  there  any  ambiguity  in  the  words  "sound,"  "color,"  "taste," 
"smell,"  etc.? 

4.  What  is  the  real  difference  between  physical  and  mental  facts  ? 


LESSON   XIX. 

SENSATION. 
(Continued.} 

Are  Colors,   etc.,   only   Mental    Facts  ?  —  Let  us 

imagine  ourselves  taking  a  walk  on  one  of  those  perfect 
days  in  June  that  Lowell  speaks  of.  The  fresh,  delicate 
green  of  the  trees,  the  songs  of  birds,  and  the  odors  of  a 
thousand  flowers  and  blossoms,  delight  us.  But  in  the 
midst  of  our  enjoyment  the  subject  of  the  last  lesson  occurs 
to  us.  We  cease  to  enjoy ;  we  begin  to  think.  We  ask 
each  other  if  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  last  lesson, 
which  seemed  so  true  as  we  worked  them  out  by  gaslight, 
really  do  hold  of  the  gorgeous  panorama  that  lies  spread 
out  before  us.  Is  the  delicate  green  of  the  trees,  the  deep 
blue  of  the  skies,  merely  a  web  of  our  own  mental  facts,  a 
garment  of  our  own  making,  with  which,  unconsciously  to 
ourselves,  we  have  covered  up  the  unsightliness  of  nature? 
Are  the  so-called  songs  of  birds  merely  echoes  in  our  own 
souls  of  soundless  motions  without  ?  In  one  word,  are  the 
colors  and  sounds  and  odors  that  seem  to  fill  the  scene 
before  us  only  mental  facts  —  things  which,  like  the  joys 
and  sorrows,  the  hopes  and  fears,  that  make  up  our  con- 
scious life,  exist  in  our  own  minds,  and  nowhere  else  f 

Whatever  reason  may  say,  our  first  impulse  is  to  answer 
with  an  emphatic  negative.  But  as  we  follow  in  imagina- 
tion the  vibrations  of  air  radiating  from  the  birds  in  every 

i73 


174 


SENSATION. 


direction,  and  the  waves  of  light  from  the  leaves  of  the 
trees,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that  leaves,  songs  of  birds, 
blossoms,  flowers — are  only  exciting  causes  of  effects 
which  appear  in  our  conscious  life  as  sensations. 

But  the  thought  is  unwelcome.  We  had  supposed  our- 
selves looking  at  green  trees,  and  velvety  hills,  and  a  blue 
sky  ;  our  reasoning,  like  the  wand  of  an  envious  magician, 
seems  to  strip  the  world  of  its  beauty,  and  leave  us  in  the 
presence  of  —  we  know  not  what.  We  struggle  to  get 
away  from  it.  We  feel  as  though  an  old  friend,  the  recol- 
lection of  whose  voice  mingles  with  the  earliest  memories 
of  our  childhood,  had  suddenly  begun  to  speak  to  us  in  an 
unknown  tongue ;  or  rather,  that  the  tones  and  language 
with  which  we  had  thought  ourselves  entirely  familiar,  and 
which  had  seemed  to  signify  the  most  precious  things  in 
life,  had  suddenly  shivered  into  meaningless  noises  —  had 
become  "  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing." 

Sounds  and  Colors  as  Objective  Facts.  —  In  our  desire 
to  keep  the  world  we  have  known,  we  first  betake  our- 
selves to  words.  We  bethink  ourselves  of  our  studies  in 
physics,  and  say  that,  although  sounds  and  colors  are  sen- 
sations, yet  there  are  sounds  and  colors  in  nature.  Un- 
doubtedly, but  of  what  kind  ?  The  sounds  in  nature  are 
vibrations  of  air  ;  the  colors,  undulations  of  ether.  Are 
these  what  we  think  of  when  we  speak  of  sounds  and 
colors  ?  If  so,  the  terms  with  which  we  describe  sounds 
and  colors  will  apply  to  motions  ;  when  we  are  speaking  of 
sounds  and  colors,  we  are  speaking  of  motions.  Is  it  true, 
then,  that  when  we  speak  of  sweet,  melodious  sounds,  we 
mean  sweet,  melodious  motions?  Or  when  we  speak  of 
rich,  gorgeous  colors,  do  we  mean  rich,  gorgeous  motions  ? 


COLORS    AND    SOUNDS.  175 

A  moment's  thought  convinces  us  that  the  things  we  have 
in  mind  when  we  use  these  terms  are  not  motions  at  all ; 
the  colors  and  sounds  that  we  think  of  in  ordinary  life  — 
that  thrust  themselves  upon  our  notice  every  moment —  are 
not  undulations  of  ether  and  vibrations  of  air  —  are  not 
things  that  the  world  learned  about  only  after  centuries  of 
investigation,  but  the  colors  and  sounds  of  experience  — 

sensations. 

• 

Colors  and  Sounds  not  Copies  of  External  Facts.  — 

Failing  in  this  attempt,  we  try  again.  We  say  that, 
although  the  colors  and  sounds  that  we  talk  about  are 
sensations,  yet  they  are  copies  of  facts  that  exist  in  the 
external  world.  The  colors,  sounds,  and  odors  of  which 
we  have  direct  knowledge  are  sensations  ;  but  as  we  know 
how  an  object  looks  without  looking  at  it  if  we  see  its 
reflection  in  a  mirror,  so  the  sensations  of  consciousness 
give  us  exact  knowledge  of  the  world  beyond  conscious- 
ness; they  are  the  reflections  of  objects  in  the  external 
world.  The  green  that  seems  to  be  spread  over  the  leaves 
is  indeed  spread  over  them,  but  the  green  that  we  have 
direct  knowledge  of  is  in  our  own  minds.  The  green  in 
our  minds  is  the  sensation,  the  green  of  experience,  the 
copy ;  the  green  of  the  leaves  is  the  outside  reality  —  the 
original.  This  is  another  of  the  methods  by  which  we 
seek  to  avoid  accepting  the  conclusions  of  our  own  reason- 
ings. 

But  we  are  at  once  confronted  with  a  difficulty.  I  see 
your  picture  hanging  on  the  wall.  I  immediately  recognize 
it,  because  picture  and  original  are  both -before  me.  But 
you  point  to  another  —  a  picture  of  a  gentleman  whom  I 
have  never  seen  —  and  ask  me  if  I  think  it  good.  Of 


176  SENSATION. 

course  I  can  not  say,  since  I  have  never  seen  the  original. 
Before  I  can  say  whether  a  picture  is  like  the  original,  I 
must  have  seen  both.  As  long  as  I  look  at  a  picture  of 
which  I  have  never  seen  the  original,  I  can  not  say  either 
that  it  is  like  the  original,  or  that  it  has  any  original  at 
all.  How,  then,  can  we  say  that  our  sensations  are  like 
the  external  things  which  cause  them  ?  ^ 

Before  we  began  the  investigations  of  the  last  lesson, 
we  thought  that  the  odors,  sounds,  and  colors  of  which  we 
have  direct  knowledge  were  physical  facts,  external  to  the 
mind.  But  we  learned  in  the  last  lesson  that  these  sup- 
posed physical  facts  are  not  physical  facts  at  all.  In  order 
to  stand  by  our  conclusion,  and  at  the  same  time  keep  our 
belief  in  the  character  of  the  external  world,  we  have  sup- 
posed that  there  are  parallel  series  of  facts  —  mental  facts 
of  which  we  are  conscious,  and  physical  facts  of  which  we 
are  not  conscious ;  the  one  a  copy,  the  other  the  original. 
But  it  is  now  evident  that  we  have  no  right  to  say  that 
our  sensations  are  copies  of  these  external  facts.  We  are 
conscious  of  the  one  set  of  facts ;  we  are  not  conscious  of 
the  other.  Until  we  become  conscious  of  both  —  that  is, 
until  both  become  sensations  —  to  say  that  one  is  a  copy 
of  the  other  is  to  say  that  something  we  know  is  a  copy  of 
something  we  do  not  know. 

But  that  is  not  the  only  difficulty.  You  have  great 
skill  in  painting.  Suppose  I  should  ask  you  to  make  me  a 
picture  of  Yankee  Doodle.  You  would  tell  me  that  my 
request  is  absurd,  would  you  not  ?  You  would  say  that 
sounds  can  resemble  sounds,  and  colors  colors,  and  tastes 
tastes,  but  that  there  is  such  utter  unlikeness  between 
sounds  and  colors  that  we  can  not  use  language  intelli- 
gently and  say  that  any  sound  is  like  any  color.  Is  not 


SENSATIONS    AND    NERVOUS    SYSTEM.  177 

the  same  true  of  mental  and  physical  facts  ?  In  what 
sense  can  we  say  that  a  mental  fact  is  a  copy  of  a  physi- 
cal fact  —  a  state  of  consciousness  a  copy  of  something 
that  is  not  a  state  of  consciousness?  In  no  sense  whatever. 
We  must  say  either  that  the  world  of  sounds  and  tastes 
and  odors  and  colors  is  purely  subjective,  in  the  sense  of 
consisting  of  our  own  mental  facts,  or  else  that  the  con- 
clusions reached  in  the  last  lesson  are  wrong. 

What  our  Sensations  are  Depends  on  our  Nervous 
System.  —  But,  apart  from  these  considerations,  there  are 
many  facts  that  make  any  other  conclusion  impossible. 
That  conclusion  is  that  what  we  call  the  attributes  or 
qualities  of  objects  —  tastes,  smells,  sounds,  colors,  etc.  — 
are  sensations  which  these  objects  produce  in  our  minds 
through  the  agency  of  our  nervous  system.  How  does  it 
happen  that  I  can  make  the  world  look  green  or  red  or 
blue  or  yellow  by  looking  at  it  through  green  or  red  or  blue 
or  yellow  glass  ?  Or  that  I  can  change  the  apparent  tem- 
perature of  water  by  changing  the  temperature  of  the  hand 
I  put  in  it  ?  Or  that  when  I  am  sick  nothing  tastes  as  it 
does  when  I  am  well  ?  Evidently  because  the  qualities  of 
objects  are  merely  ways  or  modes  in  which  the  objects 
affect  us  through  the  agency  of  the  nervous  system  ;  and 
whenever  for  any  reason  a  different  effect  is  produced 
upon  the  nervous  system,  the  object  seems  to  have  a  dif- 
ferent quality  because  we  have  different  sensations.  In 
the  case  of  the  colored  glass,  the  nervous  system  is  affected 
differently  because  of  a  change  produced  by  the  glass  upon 
the  agent  —  light  —  that  acts  upon  the  nervous  sjstem. 
In  the  last  case  spoken  of,  the  difference  in  taste  is  due  to 
a  difference  in  the  condition  of  the  nervous  system  itself, 


178  SENSATION. 

in  consequence  of  the  disordered  condition  of  the  body. 
Sometimes  the  quality  we  attribute  to  an  object  —  in  other 
words,  the  sensations  produced  by  it  —  depends  upon  the 
part  of  the  body  affected.  If  you  take  a  pair  of  compasses, 
whose  points  are  somewhat  blunted,  and  place  their  points 
on  the  forearm,  in  the  direction  of  the  length  of  the  arm, 
the  two  points  will  seem  as  one,  unless  they  are  more  than 
i  ^  inches  apart.  But  placed  on  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  the 
two  points  are  distinguished  as  two  when  they  are  as  much 
as  .0394  of  an  inch  apart. 

These  facts  make  it  certain  that  the  quality  of  an  object 
is  not  something  attached  to,  or  inherent  in,  the  object,  but 
merely  the  mode  or  way  in  which  the  object  affects  us 
through  the  nervous  system.  As  Professor  Ziehen  puts  it, 
"The  constitution  of  the  nervous  system  is  an  essential 
factor  in  determining  the  quality  of  sensation.  This  fact 
reveals  the  obvious  error  of  former  centuries,  first  refuted 
by  Locke,  though  still  shared  by  nai've  thought  to-day,  that 
the  objects  about  us  themselves  are  colored  warm,  cold,  etc. 
As  external  to  our  consciousness,  we  can  only  assume 
matter,  vibrating  with  molecular  motion  and  permeated  by 
vibrating  particles  of  ether." 

But  Changes  in  the  Nervous  System  not  Always 
Followed  by  Sensation.  • —  And  yet  we  can  not  say  that 
everything  which  produces  a  change  in  the  nervous  system 
produces  a  change  in  the  sensation.  If  you  hold  a  one- 
pound  weight  in  your  hand  when  your  arm  is  outstretched, 
a  friend  may  add  one-half  or  two-thirds  of  an  ounce  —  if 
you  do.  not  see  him  —  without  your  knowing  it.  Not  until 
the  added  weight  is  about  one-seventeenth  the  original  will 
you  perceive  the  difference.  And  you  will  find  by  experi- 


WEBER  S    LAW.  179 

ment  that  the  same  proportion  holds  if  you  make  the 
weight  in  your  hand  heavier  —  i.e.,  if  it  be  ten  pounds,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  add  nearly  ten  ounces  before  you  can 
detect  the  difference. 

Weber's  Law.  —  This  fact  illustrates  a  law  that  governs 
an  immense  multitude  of  facts.  Says  Professor  Wundt : 

"  Every  one  knows  that  in  the  stillness  of  night  we  hear 
things  which  are  unperceived  in  the  noise  of  day.  The 
gentle  ticking  of  the  clock,  the  distant  bustle  of  the  streets, 
the  creaking  of  the  chairs  in  the  room  impress  themselves 
upon  the  ear.  And  every  one  knows  that  amid  the  con- 
fused hubbub  of  the  market-place,  or  the  roar  of  a  railway 
train,  we  may  lose  what  our  neighbor  is  saying  to  us,  or 
even  fail  to  hear  our  own  voice.  The  stars  which  shine  so 
brightly  at  night  are  invisible  by  day ;  and  although  we 
can  see  the  moon  in  the  day-time,  she  is  far  paler  than  at 
night.  Every  one  who  has  had  to  do  with  weights  knows 
that  if  to  a  gramme  in  the  hand  we  add  a  second  gramme, 
the  difference  is  clearly  noticed ;  but  if  we  add  it  to  a  kilo- 
gramme, there  is  no  knowledge  of  the  increase. 

"All  these  experiences  are  so  common  that  we  think 
them  self-evident.  Really,  that  is  by  no  means  the  case. 
There  can  not  be  the  least  doubt  that  the  clock  ticks  just 
as  loudly  by  day  as  by  night.  In  the  clamor  of  the  street, 
or  amid  the  noise  of  the  railway,  we  speak,  if  anything, 
more  loudly  than  is  usual.  Moon  and  stars  do  not  vary  in 
the  intensity  of  their  light.  And  no  one  will  deny  that 
a  gramme  weighs  the  same  whether  it  is  added  to  one 
gramme  or  to  a  thousand. 

"The  sound  of  the  clock,  the  light  of  the  stars,  the 
pressure  of  the  gramme  weight,  —  all  these  are  sensation 


ISO  SENSATION. 

stimuli,  and  stimuli  whose  intensity  always  remains  the 
same.  What,  then,  do  these  experiences  teach  us  ?  Evi- 
dently nothing  else  than  this  :  that  one  and  the  same 
stimulus  will  be  sensed  as  stronger  or  weaker,  or  not 
sensed  at  all,  according  to  the  circtimstances  iinder  which 
it  operates}-  But  what  kinds  of  change  in  the  circum- 
stances are  there  which  can  produce  this  alteration  in 
sensation  ?  On  considering  the  matter  closely,  we  dis- 
cover that  the  change  is  everywhere  of  one  kind.  The 
tick  of  the  clock  is  a  weak  stimulus  for  our  auditory  nerves, 
which  we  hear  plainly  when  it  is  given  by  itself,  but  not 
when  it  is  added  to  a  strong  stimulus  of  rattling  wheels 
and  all  the  other  turmoil.  The  light  of  the  stars  is  a 
stimulus  for  the  eye  ;  but  if  its  stimulation  is  added  to  the 
strong  stimulus  of  daylight,  we  do  not  notice  it,  although 
we  sense  it  clearly  when  it  is  joined  to  the  weak  stimulus 
of  twilight.  The  gramme  weight  is  a  stimulus  for  our 
skin  which  we  sense  when  it  is  united  to  a  present  stimulus 
of  equal  strength,  but  which  vanishes  when  it  is  combined 
with  a  stimulus  of  a  thousand  times  its  own  intensity." 

Such  facts  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  qualify  the  con- 
clusion suggested  by  the  facts  before  considered,  and  say 
that,  whenever  the  change  produced  by  objects  in  the 
nervous  system  reaches  a  certain  degree — -in  other  words, 
when  the  new  stimulus  bears  a  certain  ratio  to  the  pre- 
existing stimulus — that  change  will  be  followed  by  a  change 
in  the  sensations.  As  the  result  of  an  immensely  large 
number  of  experiments  the  figures  which  express  this  ratio 
in  the  several  sense  departments  have  been  stated  by 
Professor  Wundt  as  follows  : 

1  Italics  not  in  the  original. 


QUALITIES    OF  OBJECTS.  l8l 


Light-sensation 
Muscle-sensation  -^ 

Pressure-sensation  -  ^ 

Sound-sensation     -  -  ^ 

In  other  words,  if  we  represent  the  intensity  of  light 
acting  upon  the  eyes  at  any  time  by  100,  in  order  that  a 
new  light  may  be  perceived,  it  must  be  at  least  as  intense 
as  YDTJ-  of  the  preceding  light  stimulus.  If  we  are  to  hear 
a  new  sound  in  the  midst  of  a  pre-existing  hubbub  of 
noises,  it  must  at  least  be  as  intense  as  ^  of  the  pre-exist- 
ing noise  stimulus,  and  so  on.  This  law  is  called  Weber's 
law,  because  it  was  discovered  by  the  physiologist  Ernst 
Heinrich  Weber. 

Are  Sensations  Always  Regarded  as  Qualities  of  Ob- 
jects ?  —  But  an  interesting  question  here  arises  :  the 
question  as  to  whether  our  sensations  always  wore  the 
character  they  now  bear  —  the  character  of  seeming  to  be 
what  they  are  not  —  objective  qualities  of  objects,  rather 
than  subjective  effects  of  these  objects,  produced  through 
the  nervous  system  ;  or  whether  in  the  beginning  of  our 
conscious  life  they  appeared  to  be  what  they  are  —  ex- 
periences of  our  own  minds  ;  or  whether,  indeed,  they  did 
not  appear  to  be  either,  but  were  simply  felt,  in  a  vague 
indefinite  way.  A  very  slight  observation  of  a  new-born 
child  will  be  sufficient  to  convince  us  that  his  sensations 
do  not  seem  to  him  as  ours  do  to  us.  As  we  have  seen 
already,  it  is  probable  that  in  the  beginning  of  our  mental 
life  we  have  no  definite  sensations.  Little  by  little,  a 
child's,  sensations  become  definite;  little  by  little,  they  are 
built  up  into  the  qualities  and  attributes  of  the  external 
world.  How  is  it  done  ?  That  is  a  difficult  question,  the 


1 82  SENSATION. 

answer  to  which  is  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  percep- 
tion. But  before  we  can  attempt  to  consider  it,  we  must 
study  two  laws  which  play  an  important  part  in  the  matter 
—  the  law  of  habit  and  the  law  of  the  association  of  ideas. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Do  you  find  yourself  unwilling  to  believe  that  colors,  sounds, 
etc.,  are  sensations  ? 

2.  What  are  the  sounds  and  colors  spoken  of  by  physics  ? 

3.  Show  that  our  sensations  are  not  copies  of  physical  facts. 

4.  Mention  other  facts  showing  that  what,  the  world  appears  to 
us  to  be  depends  on  changes  in  the  nervous  system. 

5.  Is  every  change  in  the  nervous  system  followed  by  a  change  in 
the  sensation  ? 

6.  What  is  Weber's  law  ?    State  the  evidence,  so  far  as  you  know 
it,  on  which  it  is  based. 

7.  Do  a  child's  sensations  seem  to  be  qualities  of  objects  ? 

8.  What  is  the  problem  of  perception  ? 


LESSON    XX. 

THE    LAW    OF    HABIT. 

WE  have  already  had  occasion  to  notice  some  of  the 
phenomena  of  habit.  The  child,  at  first  unable  to  walk, 
then  only  a  step  or  two  and  with  great  difficulty ;  the 
cyclist,  at  first  obliged  to  give  his  entire  attention  to  his 
wheel ;  the  learner  on  the  piano  slowly  spelling  out  the 
notes — are  cases  in  point.  Child,  cyclist,  pianist,  all  acquire 
the  skill  which  finally  seems  a  sort  of  second  nature  through 
habit. 

Reid  on  Habit.  —  Reid  says  :  "  As  without  instinct  the 
infant  could  not  live  to  become  a  man,  so  without  habit 
man  would  remain  an  infant  through  life,  and  would  be  as 
helpless,  as  unhandy,  as  speechless,  and  as  much  a  child 
in  understanding  at  three-score  as  at  three." 

Strong  as  this  statement  seems,  it  is  probably  an  under- 
statement of  the  truth.  Without  habit,  we  should  rather 
say,  a  man  would  be  as  helpless,  as  speechless,  as  unhandy 
at  three-score  as  at  birth.  Habit  is  the  architect  that 
builds  the  feeble  rudimentary  powers  of  the  child  into  the 
strong,  developed  powers  of  the  full-grown  man.  If  a 
child's  vague,  purposeless  movements  give  place  to  definite 
movements  performed  for  definite  purposes,  if  his  sensa- 
tions become  more  definite,  if  his  perceptions  become 

183 


184  THE    LAW    OF    HABIT. 

clearer,  if  his  memory  becomes  more  accurate,  if  he 
reasons  more  and  more  correctly  and  logically,  it  is  be- 
cause of  habit. 

Law  of  Habit.  —  What  is  the  law  of  habit  ?  It  is  that 
every  time  we  perform  any  action,  mental  or  physical,  we 
have  more  proneness  to,  and  greater  facility  for,  the  per- 
formance of  that  action  under  similar  circumstances  than 
we  had  before.  All  the  curious  gestures,  ways  of  holding 
the  hands,  attitudes,  modes  of  speech,  and  the  like  that 
characterize  the  various  people  we  know,  are  due  to  the 
law  of  habit. 

Does  Growth  Depend  on  Habit  ?  —  Sully  says  that  the 
"  formation  of  a  disposition  to  think,  feel,  etc.,  in  the  same 
way  as  before,  underlies  what  we  call  habit,"  and  that  "  in 
its  most  comprehensive  sense  "  it  means  "  a  fixed  tendency 
to  think,  feel,  or  act  in  a  particular  way  under  special  cir- 
cumstances." He  thinks  that  "  habit  refers  to  the  fixing 
of  mental  operations  in  particular  directions,"  and  hence, 
that  it  does  not  constitute  the  sole  ingredient  of  intellec- 
tual development.  He  thinks  that  it  is  "the  element  of 
persistence,  of  custom,  the  conservative  tendency"  and 
that  since  "  growth  implies  flexibility,  modifiability,  suscep- 
tibility to  new  impressions,  the  progressive  tendency," 
"  habit  is  in  a  manner  opposed  to  growth." 

Is  he  right  ?  Is  it  true  that  habit  is  in  a  manner 
opposed  to  growth  ?  I  do  not  think  so. 

Habits  and  the  Law  of  Habit.  —  His  opinion  grows 
out  of  a  failure  to  distinguish  between  habits  and  the  law 
of  habit.  Many  particular  habits  undoubtedly  are  bad. 


HABITS  AND   THE    LAW    OF    HABIT.  185 

A  man  may  form  the  habit  of  reasoning  on  insufficient 
data,  or  of  observing  carelessly ;  he  may  form  the  habit  of 
forgetting  that  he  is  finite,  and  so  liable  to  mistakes ;  that 
all  that  he  has  thought  on  any  subject  may  be  wrong 
because  he  may  have  overlooked  some  fact  already  known, 
or  because  some  unknown  fact  may  contradict  all  his  con- 
clusions. He  may  form  the  habit  of  laying  great  emphasis 
on  consistency,  that  "  hobgoblin  of  little  minds,"  and  so  go 
through  the  world  with  his  head  turned  over  his  shoulder 
determining  what  he  will  believe  to-day  by  what  he  believed 
yesterday.  He  may  form  the  habit  of  deciding  what  he 
will  believe  by  some  other  principle  than  reason.  As  the 
Chinese  go  to  Confucius,  and  Catholics  to  the  Pope,  to  tell 
them  what  to  believe,  so  he  may  go  to  his  father,  or  some 
politician,  or  the  convention  of  his  party,  or  his  newspaper 
to  tell  him  what  to  believe.  These  habits  are  unfavorable 
to  growth,  and  are  therefore  bad  habits  ;  but  is  there  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  the  law  of  habit  to  make  it  necessary 
for  us  to  form  bad  habits  ?  Are  there  not  some  open-minded, 
cautious,  independent  reasoners  ?  What  is  an  open-minded 
reasoner  ?  He  is  one  who  has  formed  the  habit  of  being 
constantly  on  the  alert  to  find  new  evidence ;  one  who 
knows  and  feels  that  when  men  have  done  their  utmost  to 
avoid  error,  they  can  not  be  so  sure  they  are  right  as  to 
shut  their  minds  to  all  further  considerations  ;  one  who  has 
so  habituated  himself  to  considering  the  supreme  difficulty 
of  arriving  at  the  truth  in  any  matter  of  complexity  that 
he  is  rather  inclined  to  wonder  that  men  are  ever  right, 
than  to  assume  that  they  can  consider  themselves  as  un- 
doubtedly right  whenever  they  reach  a  conclusion.  What 
is  a  cautious  reasoner  ?  He  is  one  who  has  so  accustomed 
himself  to  the  thought  of  the  infiniteness  of  the  universe, 


!86  THE    LAW   OF   HABIT. 

that  what  is  known  in  comparison  with  what  is,  seems  to 
him  like  a  drop  of  water  in  comparison  with  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  and  hence  he  habitually  realizes  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  collecting  as  many  facts  as  possible  bearing  on  any 
matter  under  consideration  before  he  reaches  a  conclusion. 
What  is  an  independent  reasoner  ?  He  is  one  who  has  no 
Confucius,  one  who  does  not  go  to  his  father,  or  to  any 
influential  politician,  or  to  his  party  convention,  or  his 
newspaper  to  find  out  what  to  believe  —  one  who  does  not 
use  his  reason  to  find  arguments  to  defend  conclusions 
furnished  him  from  some  external  source,  but  uses  it  to 
learn  what  is  true. 

Habits  Depend  on  what  we  Do.  —  Such  habits,  be  it 
noted,  are  as  much  the  result  of  the  law  of  habit  as  are 
the  habits  that  are  opposed  to  growth.  The  law  of  habit 
tends  to  make  us  whatever  we  want  to  be  enough  to  ex- 
press our  desires  in  action.  Is  there  any  antagonism 
between  such  habits  and  growth  ?  Can  we  say  that  such 
habits  represent  the  conservative  tendency  ?  I  can  not 
think  so.  When  teachers  come  to  realize  that  this  charac- 
teristic of  open-mindedness  and  caution  and  independence 
is  not  only  one  of  the  rarest  among  educated  men,  but  one 
of  the  most  important ;  when  they  realize  that  no  matter 
how  able  and  brilliant  a  man  may  seem,  he  is  a  fossil,  a 
thing  of  arrested  development,  precisely  to  the  extent  to 
which  he  is  lacking  in  this  characteristic  ;  when  they  have 
become  profoundly  convinced  of  the  fact  that  the  supreme 
difference  between  the  most  progressive  civilizations  in  the 
world  and  such  nations  as  the  Chinese,  is  that  the  people 
of  the  former  have  formed  the  habit,  to  some  extent,  of 
going  to  reason  to  tell  them  what  to  believe,  and  the 


HABITS    OF   REASONING.  187 

people  of  the  latter  have  formed  the  habit  of  accepting 
their  beliefs  on  authority,  they  will  not  only  be  sure  that 
there  is  no  antagonism  between  growth  and  habit,  but 
that  an  important  part  of  their  work  consists  in  rooting 
up  the  habits  which  would  confine  the  thoughts  of  their 
pupils  within  the  thoughts  of  the  past,  by  helping  them 
to  form  habits  of  open-minded,  cautious,  independent 
reasoning. 

Influence  of  Example  in  Forming  Habits  of  Reason- 
ing. —  We  can  not  help  our  pupils  form  that  habit  until 
we  have  formed  it  for  ourselves.  It  is  the  example  of 
open-minded,  cautious,  independent  reasoning ;  it  is  the 
fervid  appeal  to  students  not  to  imitate  a  flock  of  sheep, 
who  jump  when  their  leader  has  jumped,  and  do  not  jump 
when  he  has  not  jumped,  without  regard  to  the  considera- 
tions that  influenced  him  —  a  fervor  which  can  emanate 
only  from  one  who  so  believes  in,  as  to  practice  that  kind 
of  reasoning ;  it  is  the  keen  and  merciless  exposure  of  the 
utter  irrationality  of  unreasonableness  by  one  whose  whole 
being  is  saturated  with  the  conviction  —  that  gives  students 
the  strongest  impulse  to  the  formation  of  the  habit  of 
reasoning  in  this  way. 

Example  of  Socrates.  —  Moreover,  we  should  ourselves 
love  the  truth  more  than  we  love  our  own  opinions  if  we 
wish  to  make  our  pupils  open-minded  reasoners.  Socrates, 
arguing  the  question  as  to  the  immortality  of  the  soul  an 
hour  before  he  was  to  suffer  death  for  crimes  that  he  had 
not  committed,  gives  us  a  beautiful  example  of  this.  Two 
of  his  companions  have  stated  an  objection  which  has 
inflicted  a  wound,  as  he  says,  on  his  argument.  He  admits 


1 88  THE    LAW   OF    HABIT. 

that  he  has  the  temper  of  a  partisan,  rather  than  that  of 
a  philosopher,  since  he  wishes  to  convince  himself  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  But  even  under  such  circum- 
stances, his  loyalty  to  truth  shines  out  like  a  star  of  the 
first  magnitude.  "This  is  the  state  of  mind,"  he  said, 
"...  in  which  I  approach  the  argument.  And  I  would 
ask  you  to  be  thinking  of  the  truth  and  not  of  Socrates : 
agree  with  me  if  I  seem  to  you  to  be  speaking  the  truth ; 
or  if  not,  withstand  me  might  and  main,  that  I  may  not 
deceive  you  as  well  as  myself  in  my  enthusiasm  and,  like 
the  bee,  leave  my  sting  in  you  before  I  die." 

Basis  of  Habit.  —  Is  the  basis  of  habit  physical  or 
mental  ?  In  other  words,  is  the  law  of  habit  due  to  the 
fact  that  our  bodies,  and  especially  our  nervous  systems, 
are  constituted  as  they  are,  or  is  it  due  to  the  character 
of  our  minds?  Is  the  law  of  habit  due  to  the  fact  that 
whatever  we  do  leaves  an  effect  upon  some  part  of  the 
body  which  makes  it  easier  to  do  the  same  thing  under 
similar  circumstances,  or  is  it  an  ultimate  law  of  the  mind 
as  such,  about  which  no  more  can  be  said  than  that  it  is 
a  fact  ? 

Stupidity  of  some  Actions  Performed  through  Habit. 

-  Numerous  facts  indicate  that  the  former  is  the  case. 
The  utter  stupidity  of  many  actions  performed  through 
habit  make  it  hard  to  believe  that  the  mind  has  anything 
to  do  with  them.  I  have  heard  of  a  student  who  picked 
up  a  coal-scuttle  on  a  cold  winter-day,  took  it  to  a  pump, 
and  filled  it  with  water,  and  then  emptied  it  into  his  stove. 
If  the  basis  of  habit  is  physical,  we  can  understand  such 
cases.  In  that  case  we  are  to  regard  the  body  as  tending 


ETHICAL  AND    PEDAGOGICAL  INFERENCES.       189 

to  become  under  the  influence  of  the  mind,  a  vast  complex 
of  machines  fitted  to  perform  certain  actions  when  the 
conditions  are  fulfilled,  whether  the  performance  of  the 
action  leads  to  an  intelligent  result  or  not.  In  the  language 
of  Professor  Ladd,  we  should  in  that  case  regard  habitual 
actions  as  "  done  for  the  psychic  life  by  a  physical  autom- 
aton rather  than  in  or  by  the  psychic  life."  We  should 
say  that  "when  this  automaton  once  becomes  trained 
under  conscious  physical  influences,  it  performs  many 
highly  complicated  and  purposeful  motor  changes,  without 
troubling  the  flow  of  consciousness  to  pay  attention  to 
them."  But  as  those  purposeful  actions  are  performed 
because  certain  physical  conditions  are  fulfilled,  so  when 
these  physical  conditions  are  fulfilled,  these  actions  will  be 
performed  whether  they  are  purposeful  or  not,  —  as  a  gun 
will  fire  with  equal  readiness  whether  it  is  intelligently 
directed  at  a  dangerous  enemy,  or  whether  it  is  aimed  by 
a  lunatic  at  a  man  whose  life  is  essential  to  the  welfare  of 
the  State.  Assuming,  then,  that  the  law  of  habit  has  a 
physical  basis,  we  have  an  easy  explanation  of  the  stupidity 
of  many  mechanical  actions.  The  physical  machine  goes 
off,  so  to  speak,  whenever  the  trigger  is  pulled,  whether 
the  result  is  purposeful  or  not.  But  upon  the  supposition 
that  the  law  of  habit  has  its  basis  in  the  mind,  we  are  con- 
fronted with  the  remarkable  fact  that  actions  imputed  to 
intelligence  are  often  wholly  destitute  of  all  the  qualities 
that  are  characteristic  of  intelligence. 

Ethical  and  Pedagogical  Inferences.  —  Professor  James 
has  stated  the  ethical  and  pedagogical  inferences  from  the 
law  of  habit  so  much  better  than  any  one  else,  that  I  shall 
quote  him  at  length. 


190  THE    LAW   OF   HABIT. 

Importance  of  a  Strong  Initiative.  —  "  In  Professor 
Bain's  chapter  on  'The  Moral  Habits'  there  are  some 
admirable  practical  remarks  laid  down.  Two  great  maxims 
emerge  from  his  treatment.  The  first  is  that  in  the  acqui- 
sition of  a  new  habit,  or  the  leaving  off  of  an  old  one,  we 
must  take  care  to  launch  ourselves  with  as  strong  and 
decided  an  initiative  as  possible.  Accumulate  all  the 
possible  circumstances  which  shall  re-enforce  the  right 
motives;  put  yourself  assiduously  in  conditions  that  en- 
courage the  new  way;  make  engagements  incompatible 
with  the  old  ;  take  a  public  pledge,  if  the  case  allows ;  in 
short,  envelop  your  resolution  with  every  aid  you  know. 
This  will  give  your  new  beginning  such  a  momentum  that 
the  temptation  to  break  down  will  not  occur  as  soon  as  it 
otherwise  might ;  and  every  day  during  which  a  break- 
down is  postponed  adds  to  the  chances  of  its  not  occurring 
at  all. 

Never  Suffer  an  Exception  to  Occur.  —  "  The  second 
maxim  is :  Never  suffer  an  exception  to  occur  till  the 
new  habit  is  securely  rooted  in  your  life.  Each  lapse  is 
like  the  letting  fall  of  a  ball  of  string  which  one  is  care- 
fully winding  up ;  a  single  slip  undoes  more  than  a  great 
many  turns  will  wind  again.  Continuity  of  training  is  the 
great  means  of  making  the  nervous  system  act  infallibly 
right.  As  Professor  Bain  says : 

"'The  peculiarity  of  the  moral  habits,  contradistinguish- 
ing them  from  the  intellectual  acquisitions,  is  the  presence 
of  two  hostile  powers,  one  to  be  gradually  raised  into  the 
ascendant  over  the  other.  It  is  necessary,  above  all 
things,  in  such  a  situation,  never  to  lose  a  battle.  .Every 
gain  on  the  wrong  side  undoes  the  effect  of  many  con- 


ACT  ON    FIRST   OPPORTUNITY.  191 

quests  on  the  right.  The  essential  precaution,  therefore, 
is  so  to  regulate  the  two  opposing  powers  that  the  one  may 
have  a  series  of  uninterrupted  successes,  until  repetition 
has  fortified  it  to  such  a  degree  as  to  enable  it  to  cope 
with  the  opposition,  under  any  circumstances.  This  is  the 
theoretically  best  career  of  mental  progress.' 

Act  on  First  Opportunity.  —  "A  third  maxim  may  be 
added  to  the  preceding  pair  :  Seize  the  very  first  possible 
opportunity  to  act  on  every  resolution  you  make,  and  on 
every  emotional  prompting  you  may  experience  in  the 
direction  of  the  habits  you  aspire  to  gain.  It  is  not  in 
the  moment  of  their  forming,  but  in  the  moment  of  their 
producing  motor  effects,  that  resolves  and  aspirations  com- 
municate the  new  'set'  to  the  brain.  As  the  author  last 
quoted  remarks : 

" '  The  actual  presence  of  the  practical  opportunity  alone 
furnishes  the  fulcrum  upon  which  the  lever  can  rest,  by 
means  of  which  the  moral  will  may  multiply  its  strength, 
and  raise  itself  aloft.  He  who  has  no  solid  ground  to  press 
against  will  never  get  beyond  the  stage  of  empty  gesture- 
making.' 

Actions  versus  Sentiments  and  Maxims. — "No matter 
how  full  a  reservoir  of  maxims  one  may  possess,  and  no 
matter  how  good  one's  sentiments  may  be,  if  one  have  not 
taken  advantage  of  every  concrete  opportunity  to  act,  one's 
character  may  remain  entirely  unaffected  for  the  better. 
With  mere  good  intentions,  hell  is  proverbially  paved.  And 
this  is  an  obvious  consequence  of  the  principles  we  have 
laid  down.  'A  character,'  as  J.  S.  Mill  says,  'is  a  com- 
pletely fashioned  will ' ;  and  a  will,  in  the  sense  in  which 


192  THE    LAW    OF    HABIT. 

he  means  it,  is  an  aggregate  of  tendencies  to  act  in  a  firm 
and  prompt  and  definite  way  upon  all  the  principal  emer- 
gencies of  life.  A  tendency  to  act  only  becomes  effectively 
ingrained  in  us  in  proportion  to  the  uninterrupted  fre- 
quency with  which  the  actions  actually  occur,  and  the 
brain  'grows'  to  their  use.  Every  time  a  resolve  or  a 
fine  glow  of  feeling  evaporates  without  bearing  practical 
fruit  is  worse  than  a  chance  lost ;  it  works  so  as  positively 
to  hinder  future  resolutions  and  emotions  from  taking  the 
normal  path  of  discharge.  There  is  no  more  contemptible 
type  of  human  character  than  that  of  the  nerveless  senti- 
mentalist and  dreamer,  who  spends  his  life  in  a  weltering 
sea  of  sensibility  and  emotion,  but  who  never  does  a 
manly  concrete  deed.  Rousseau,  inflaming  all  the  mothers 
of  France,  by  his  eloquence,  to  follow  Nature  and  nurse 
their  babies  themselves,  while  he  sends  his  own  children 
to  the  foundling  hospital,  is  the  classical  example  of  what 
I  mean.  But  every  one  of  us  in  his  measure,  whenever, 
after  glowing  for  an  abstractly  formulated  Good,  he  practi- 
cally ignores  some  actual  case,  among  the  squalid  'other 
particulars'  of  which  that  same  Good  lurks  disguised,  treads 
straight  on  Rousseau's  path.  All  Goods  are  disguised  by 
the  vulgarity  of  their  concomitants,  in  this  work-a-day  world ; 
but  woe  to  him  who  can  only  recognize  them  when  he  thinks 
them  in  their  pure  and  abstract  form  !  The  habit  of  exces- 
sive novel-reading  and  theatre-going  will  produce  true  mon- 
sters in  this  line.  The  weeping  of  a  Russian  lady  over  the 
fictitious  personages  in  the  play,  while  her  coachman  is 
freezing  to  death  on  his  seat  outside,  is  the  sort  of  thing  that 
everywhere  happens  on  a  less  glaring  scale.  Even  the 
habit  of  excessive  indulgence  in  music,  for  those  who  are 
neither  performers  themselves  nor  musically  gifted  enough 


CULTIVATE  FACULTY  OF  EFFORT.       193 

to  take  it  in  a  purely  intellectual  way,  has  probably  a 
relaxing  effect  upon  the  character.  One  becomes  filled 
with  emotions  which  habitually  pass  without  prompting  to 
any  deed,  and  so  the  inertly  sentimental  condition  is  kept 
up.  The  remedy  would  be,  never  to  suffer  tme's  self  to 
have  an  emotion  at  a  concert,  without  expressing  it  after- 
ward in  some  active  way.  Let  the  expression  be  the  least 
thing  in  the  world  —  speaking  genially  to  one's  aunt,  or 
giving  up  one's  seat  in  a  horse-car,  if  nothing  more  heroic 
offers  —  but  let  it  not  fail  to  take  place. 

"These  latter  cases  make  us  aware  that  it  is  not  simply 
particular  lines  of  discharge,  but  also  general  forms  of 
discharge,  that  seem  to  be  grooved  out  by  habit  in  the 
brain.  Just  as,  if  we  let  our  emotions  evaporate,  they  get 
into  a  way  of  evaporating ;  so  there  is  reason  to  suppose 
that  if  we  often  flinch  from  making  an  effort,  before  we 
know  it  the  effort-making  capacity  will  be  gone  ;  and  that, 
if  we  suffer  the  wandering  of  our  attention,  presently  it 
will  wander  all  the  time.  Attention  and  effort  are,  as  we 
shall  see  later,  but  two  names  for  the  same  psychic  fact. 
To  what  brain-processes  they  correspond  we  do  not  know. 
The  strongest  reason  for  believing  that  they  do  depend  on 
brain-processes  at  all,  and  are  not  pure  acts  of  the  spirit, 
is  just  this  fact,  that  they  seem  in  some  degree  subject  to 
the  law  of  habit,  which  is  a  material  law. 

Cultivate  Faculty  of  Effort. —  "As  a  final  practical 
maxim,  relative  to  these  habits  of  the  will,  we  may,  then, 
offer  something  like  this  :  Keep  the  faculty  of  effort  alive 
in  you  by  a  little  gratuitous  exercise  every  day.  That  is, 
be  systematically  ascetic  or  heroic  in  little  unnecessary 
points,  do  every  day  or  two  something  for  no  other  reason 


194  THE  LAW  OF  HABIT- 

than  that  you  would  rather  not  do  it,  so  that  when  the 
hour  of  dire  need  draws  nigh,  it  may  find  you  not  unnerved 
and  untrained  to  stand  the  test.  Asceticism  of  this  sort  is 
like  the  insurance  which  a  man  pays  on  his  house  and  goods. 
The  tax  does  him  no  good  at  the  time,  and  possibly  may 
never  bring  him  a  return.  But  if  the  fire  does  come,  his 
having  paid  it  will  be  his  salvation  from  ruin.  So  with  the 
man  who  has  daily  inured  himself  to  habits  of  concentrated 
attention,  energetic  volition,  and  self-denial  in  unnecessary 
things.  He  will  stand  like  a  tower  when  everything  rocks 
around  him,  and  when  his  softer  fellow-mortals  are  win- 
nowed like  chaff  in  the  blast. 

Physiological  Study  of  Mental  Conditions  an  Ally  of 
Ethics.  —  "The  physiological  study  of  mental  conditions  is 
thus  the  most  powerful  ally  of  hortatory  ethics.  The  hell 
to  be  endured  hereafter,  of  which  theology  tells,  is  no 
worse  than  the  hell  we  make  for  ourselves  in  this  world 
by  habitually  fashioning  our  characters  in  the  wrong  way. 
Could  the  young  but  realize  how  soon  they  will  become 
mere  walking  bundles  of  habit,  they  would  give  more  heed 
to  their  conduct  while  in  the  plastic  state.  We  are  spin- 
ning our  own  fates,  good  or  evil,  and  never  to  be  undone. 
Every  smallest  stroke  of  virtue  or  of  vice  leaves  its  never 
so  little  scar.  The  drunken  Rip  Van  Winkle,  in  Jefferson's 
play,  excuses  himself  for  every  fresh  dereliction  by  say- 
ing :  '  I  won't  count  this  time  ! '  Well !  he  may  not  count 
it,  and  a  kind  Heaven  may  not  count  it ;  but  it  is  being 
counted  none  the  less.  Down  among  his  nerve  cells  and 
fibres  the  molecules  are  counting  it,  registering  and  storing 
it  up  to  be  used  against  him  when  the  next  temptation 
comes.  Nothing  we  ever  do  is,  in  strict  scientific  literal- 


STUDY  OF   MENTAL  CONDITIONS.  195 

ness,  wiped  out.  Of  course,  this  has  its  good  side  as  well 
as  its  bad  one.  As  we  become  permanent  drunkards  by 
so  many  separate  drinks,  so  we  become  saints  in  the 
moral,  and  authorities  and  experts  in  the  practical  and 
scientific  spheres,  by  so  many  separate  acts  and  hours  of 
work.  Let  no  youth  have  any  anxiety  about  the  upshot  of 
his  education,  whatever  the  line  of  it  may  be.  If  he  keep 
faithfully  busy  each  hour  of  the  working-day,  he  may 
safely  leave  the  final  result  to  itself.  He  can  with  perfect 
certainty  count  on  waking  up  some  fine  morning,  to  find 
himself  one  of  the  competent  ones  of  his  generation,  in 
whatever  pursuit  he  may  have  singled  out.  Silently,  be- 
tween all  the  details  of  his  business,  the  power  of  judging 
in  all  that  class  of  matter  will  have  built  itself  up  within 
him  as  a  possession  that  will  never  pass  away.  Young 
people  should  know  this  truth  in  advance.  The  ignorance 
of  it  has  probably  engendered  more  discouragement  and 
faint-heartedness  in  youths  embarking  on  arduous  careers 
than  all  other  causes  put  together." 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1 .  What  is  the  law  of  habit  ? 

2.  How  does  Sully  define  it? 

3.  Is  he  right? 

4.  Distinguish  between  the  law  of  habit,  and  habits. 

5.  What  can  we  do  to  make  our  pupils  cautious  and  independent 
reasoners  ? 

6.  Is  the  basis  of  habit  physical  or  mental  ? 

7.  Enumerate  the  maxims  which  Professor  James  infers  from  the 
law  of  habit. 


LESSON   XXL 

ASSOCIATION    OF    IDEAS. 

Association  of  Ideas  Illustrated.  —  If  you  think  about 
anything,  no  matter  what,  you  are  sure  to  find  yourself 
thinking,  the  moment  after,  of  something  connected  with 
it.  Think  about  the  last  school  you  attended,  and  you  may 
think  of  a  schoolmate,  or  of  some  of  the  books  you  studied, 
or  of  some  of  the  games  you  played.  Think  of  Napoleon, 
and  you  may  think  of  a  friend  who  lent  you  a  book  about 
him,  or  of  some  of  his  battles,  or  of  Alexander  or  Caesar. 
This  fact,  that  thinking  of  anything  tends  to  make  us  think 
of  something  else  connected  with  it,  is  called  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas. 

Different  Kinds.  —  If  you  watch  the  course  of  your 
thoughts  for  an  hour,  you  will  find  that  there  are  very 
different  kinds  of  connection  between  the  ideas  recalled 
and  the  experiences  that  recall  them.  If  you  think  of  a 
hill,  it  may  make  you  think  of  a  walk  you  took  there  last 
night,  or  of  one  like  it  near  your  own  home.  The  thought 
of  the  hill  makes  you  think  of  the  walk  you  took  there, 
because  when  you  were  taking  the  walk  you  thought  of 
the  hill.  In  other  words,  the  thought  of  the  hill  and  the 
thought  of  the  wa-lk  were  in  your  mind  at  the  same  time. 
The  thought  of  the  hill  makes  you  think  of  one  like  it  near 

196 


MECHANICAL  ASSOCIATION.  197 

your  home,  not  because  you  have  ever  seen  or  thought  of 
them  both  at  the  same  time  before,  but  because  they  are 
like  each  other. 

Association  of  the  first  kind  —  association  by  contiguity, 
as  it  is  generally  termed  —  is  sometimes  called  mechanical 
association  ;  and  I  think  it  will  be  useful  for  us  to  remem- 
ber both  names,  and  the  reasons  for  them.  It  is  called 
association  by  contiguity  because  contiguity  means  near- 
ness, and  the  things  associated  by  contiguity  were  thought 
of  at  or  about  the  same  time.  It  is  called  mechanical 
association  to  contrast  it  with  another  kind  of  association 
called  logical  or  rational.  When  the  thought  of  the  hill 
makes  you  think  of  one  like  it  near  your  own  home,  it  is 
because  there  is  an  inner  relation  —  similarity  —  and  not 
a  mere  external,  mechanical  relation  between  them.  But 
if  the  first  time  a  child  sees  a  Chinaman  and  a  steam- 
engine  he  sees  them  both  together,  the  next  time  he  sees 
one  of  them  he  will  be  likely  to  think  of  the  other,  not 
because  they  have  an  inner  connection,  but  because  they 
were  seen  at  the  same  time.  Hence  this  kind  of  associa- 
tion is  called  mechanical,  because  the  things  associated 
have  only  an  external  or  mechanical  connection  ;  it  is 
called  association  by  contiguity  because  they  were  thought 
of  at  or  about  the  same  time. 

Mechanical  Association.  —  Evidently  the  connecting 
link  in  the  case  of  things  mechanically  associated  is  time ; 
but  we  must  be  careful  to  remember  that  the  time  which 
forms  this  connecting  link  is  not  the  time  in  which  events 
happen,  but  the  time  in  which  we  think  of  them.  The 
Declaration  of  Independence  makes  you  think  of  the 
Fourth  of  July,  not  because  it  was  made  on  that  day,  but 


198  ASSOCIATION    OF   IDEAS. 

because  the  thought  of  the  two  has  been  in  your  mind  at 
the  same  time. 

Logical  Association.  —  But  in  order  that  we  may  asso- 
ciate things  rationally  or  logically,  we  must  be  able  to  per- 
ceive some  inner  relation  between  them.  Things  as  un- 
related as  it  is  possible  for  things  to  be  in  this  world  may 
be  brought  side  by  side  in  space ;  and  if  so,  we  may  see 
them  at  the  same  time,  and  so  associate  them  mechanically. 
But  in  order  to  associate  them  logically  we  must  be  able 
to  apprehend  an  inner  relation  between  them  —  a  relation 
not  depending  on  accident  or  chance,  but  growing  out  of 
their  very  nature. 

Of  these  inner  relations,  besides  likeness,  the  relations 
of  cause  and  effect,  of  instrument  and  use,  of  means  and 
end,  of  premise  and  conclusion,  of  law  and  example,  at 
once  occur  to  us ;  and  a  careful  study  of  them  will  enable 
us  to  realize  the  contrast  between  trie  innerness  of  logical 
relations  and  the  outerness  of  mechanical  relations.  Two 
peaches  can  not  but  be  like  each  other  —  they  would  not 
be  peaches  if  they  were  not ;  a  good  school  must  be  a  use- 
ful agency  in  developing  the  minds  of  its  pupils ;  fire  must 
throw  out  heat  as  long  as  the  present  constitution  of  the 
world  remains  the  same.  In  all  these  cases  it  is  evident 
that  the  relation  is  not  external  or  accidental  or  casual, 
but  inner  —  growing  out  of  the  very  nature  of  the  things 
themselves. 

Importance  of  the  Distinction  between  Mechanical 
and  Logical  Association.  —  The  distinction  between 
mechanical  and  rational  association  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance in  Psychology.  Many  psychologists  hold  a  theory  of 


RATIONALLY   ASSOCIATED    IDEAS.  199 

the  mind  which  would  do  away  with  all  rational  association 
— which  would  make  what  seems  to  be  rational  association 
nothing  but  mechanical  association.  I  can  not  but  think 
that  they  are  wrong.  But  we  need  to  note  that  many 
actions  that  seem  to  be  due  to  rational  associations  may 
be,  and  probably  are,  due  to  mechanical  associations. 
When  a  dog  goes  out  into  the  field,  about  sunset,  and  drives 
a  herd  of  cows  home,  it  seems  to  be  a  case  of  rational  asso- 
ciation. It  seems  as  though  he  had  perceived  the  rela- 
tion between  milking  time  and  driving  the  cows  into  the 
pound  in  order  to  be  milked.  We  are  inclined  to  suppose 
that  his  thoughts  took  some  such  form  as  the  following : 
"  It  is  about  milking  time,  so  I  will  bring  the  cows  home 
in  order  that  they  may  be  milked."  But  more  careful 
consideration  will  make  it  clear  that  we  need  not  suppose 
any  such  thing.  We  may  suppose  that  the  various  circum- 
stances characteristic  of  approaching  sunset  caused  the 
idea  of  going  after  the  cows  to  arise  in  his  mind  by  purely 
mechanical  associations.  In  other  words,  the  perception 
of  approaching  sunset  was  followed  in  his  mind  by  the 
thought  of  going  after  the  cows  without  any  perception  of 
the  relation  between  them,  and  the  thought  of  going  after 
the  cows  by  the  sensations  of  motion  resulting  from  carry- 
ing his  idea  into  effect,  without  any  perception  of  the 
relation  between  bringing  them  home  and  milking  time. 
What  seems  to  be  a  case  of  reasoning  may  be,  and  prob- 
ably is,  nothing  but  a  series  of  mechanical  associations. 

Why  Ideas  Rationally  Associated  Recall  Each  Other. 

—  But  why  does  a  cause  make  us  think  of  its  effect ;  a 
means,  of  the  end  it  is  adapted  to  reach ;  an  instrument, 
of  its  use ;  a  premise,  of  a  conclusion  ?  Partly  because 


2OO  ASSOCIATION    OF   IDEAS. 

the  thought  of  the  two  has  been  in  the  mind  at  the  same 
time.  But  that  this  is  not  a  complete  answer  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that,  of  the  various  thoughts  in  our  minds  at 
the  same  time,  those  are  most  likely  to  recall  each  other 
that  have  some  inner  relation.  Of  the  things  we  think  of 
during  the  course  of  a  day,  most  of  them  pass  away  beyond 
the  possibility  of  recall,  because  they  are  meaningless, 
isolated,  disconnected  —  because  the  only  connection  be- 
tween them  is  the  time  in  which  we  think  of  them. 
Evidently,  therefore,  there  is  something  in  the  fact  that 
thoughts  have  some  logical  connection,  which  tends  to 
make  them  recall  each  other.  Let  us  see  if  we  can  learn 
what  it  is. 

Because  Apprehension  of  Relations  is  a  Source  of 
Pleasure.  —  We  know  that  anything  upon  which  we  fix 
our  minds  for  a  considerable  length  of  time  —  anything 
that  interests  us,  anything  that  for  any  reason  we  attend 
to  —  is  more  likely  to  be  recalled  than  the  things  which 
merely  flit  across  our  minds  like  shadows  across  a  land- 
scape. But  the  things  that  have  an  inner  relation  are 
precisely  those  we  are  sure  to  attend  to,  provided  we 
apprehend  the  relation.  We  are  sure  to  attend  to  them 
in  the  first  place,  because  the  apprehension  of  relations  is 
a  source  of  keen  intellectual  pleasure.  We  have  seen 
already  how  it  delights  the  mind  to  have  a  lot  of  discon- 
nected, straggling  facts  marshaled  into  compact  array, 
each  one  dropping  into  its  proper  place  in  relation  to  the 
rest.  It  increases  our  sense  of  power.  To  carry  a  load  of 
facts  by  mechanical  association  has  been  aptly  compared 
to  the  carrying  of  food  "  in  a  bundle  strapped  upon  the 
back  "  ;  the  carrying  of  the  same  facts  by  rational  associa- 


APPREHENSION  OF  RELATIONS.        2OI 

tion,  to  the  carrying  of  the  same  food  "eaten,  digested, 
and  wrought  over  into  the  bones  and  muscles  which  hold 
the  body  firm  and  solid."  Now,  whatever  adds  to  our 
sense  of  power  —  whatever  gives  us  pleasure  —  is  sure  to 
be  attended  to ;  and  the  greater  the  feeling  of  power,  and 
the  keener  the  pleasure  it  gives  us,  the  greater  the  amount 
of  attention  we  give  it. 

Also  of  Practical  Importance.  —  But  apart  from  this 
the  apprehension  of  inner  relations  is  of  the  greatest  prac- 
tical interest  to  us.  The  ability  to  go  from  effects  to 
causes  and  from  causes  to  effects,  from  laws  to  examples 
and  from  facts  to  laws,  from  premises  to  conclusions  and 
from  particulars  to  premises,  to  adapt  means  to  their  ends 
and  instruments  to  their  uses,  not  only  marks  the  great 
difference  between  the  mind  of  a  civilized  man  and  that  of  a 
savage,  but  results  in  the  almost  infinitely  greater  command 
that  the  former  has  over  the  resources  of  nature.  To  have 
special  ability  in  the  apprehension  of  the  inner  relations  of 
things  is  to  have  power  not  only  as  an  intellectual  posses- 
sion, but  in  the  sense  of  ability  to  accomplish  the  things 
that  men  wish  to  accomplish  in  life.  This  is  another  rea- 
son why  we  are  sure  to  attend  to  things  when  we  perceive 
their  inner  relations  ;  whether  they  have  a  natural  interest 
for  us  or  not,  they  have  an  acquired  interest,  because  we 
know  we  can  use  such  knowledge  in  reaching  desired 
results. 

Influence  of  Habit.  —  These  two  causes  bring  a  third 
one  into  operation.  Because  of  these  two  causes  a  large 
part  of  our  intellectual  life  consists  in  the  search  for  inner 
relations.  Study,  as  we  first  conceived  it,  consisted  in  the 


2O2  ASSOCIATION    OF  IDEAS. 

exercise  of  mechanical  association.  But  both  as  students 
and  as  men  and  women  of  the  world  we  have  come  to  have 
an  entirely  different  notion  of  it.  We  have  come  to  see 
that  study  —  thought  —  consists  in  the  attempt  to  appre- 
hend the  inner  relations  of  things  and  to  see  that  progress 
—  no  matter  in  what  direction  —  depends  upon  the  success 
of  our  efforts.  In  this  way  we  form  the  habit  of  noticing 
the  inner  relations  of  things,  even  when  we  do  not  see  how 
the  knowledge  is  likely  to  be  of  practical  value.  For  these 
three  reasons,  then,  (i)  because  of  the  pleasure  the  mind 
derives  from  the  perception  of  inner  relations  ;  (2)  because 
of  the  practical  interest  such  relations  have  for  us ;  and 
(3)  because  of  habit  —  we  are  more  likely  to  attend  to 
things  between  which  the  mind  perceives  them  than  to 
disconnected  facts.  The  reason,  therefore,  why  we  are 
more  likely  to  recall  things  associated  logically  than  we 
are  to  recall  any  other  facts  experienced  at  the  same  time 
is  because  the  former  are  more  closely  attended  to. 

We  are  left,  then,  with  two  great  laws  of  association : 
The  law  of  association  by  contiguity  that  thoughts  or  ideas 
or  experiences  that  have  been  in  the  mind  at  or  about  the 
same  time  tend  to  recall  each  other ;  and  the  law  of  associa- 
tion by  similarity  that  similar  thoughts  or  ideas  or  expe- 
riences tend  to  recall  each  other, 

Spontaneous  Reproduction.  —  Many  psychologists  con- 
tend that  the  explanation  of  the  appearance  of  every  idea 
in  the  mind  is  found  in  the  law  of  association ;  that,  no 
matter  what  we  find  ourselves  thinking  of,  the  reason  why 
we  are  thinking  of  it  is  that  it  was  "  suggested  "  by  some 
other  idea  or  experience.  Others  —  among  them  Professor 
Ladd  —  contend  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  spontaneous 


SIMILARITY  AND    CONTIGUITY.  203 

reproduction,  such  a  thing  as  the  appearance  of  ideas  not 
suggested  by  other  ideas  but  due  to  the  fact  that  "  every 
vivid,  life-like,  and  frequently  repeated  impression  tends  to 
reproduce  itself  again  and  again." 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  advocates  of  spontaneous  repro- 
duction are  right.  Who  has  not  found  himself  haunted 
hour  after  hour  and  sometimes  day  after  day  by  some 
pleasing  melody.  "  I  can  not  get  it  out  of  my  mind,"  we 
say  at  such  times.  And  the  man  is  fortunate  who  has  not 
found  himself  haunted  by  an  entirely  different  experience, 
a  sense  of  calamity  and  trouble  from  which  he  can  not 
escape,  which  follows  him  like  his  shadow.  The  fact  cer- 
tainly seems  to  be,  not  that  everything  suggests  these 
experiences,  but  rather  "  that  we  can  not  find  percepts  or 
ideas  impressive  enough  to  suggest  any  other  than  the 
dominant  idea."  At  such  times  men  sometimes  try  —  and 
how  often  in  vain  !  —  to  put  their  minds  on  a  book  in  order 
to  get  away  from  the  unwelcome  thoughts,  as  a  sufferer 
from  toothache  seeks  by  similar  methods  to  forget  his 
agonizing  pain.  And  as  a  man  suffering  from  toothache 
often  finds  it  impossible  to  forget  it,  because  its  cause 
is  found  in  existing  nervous  conditions,  so  we  often  find 
it  impossible  to  get  away  from  the  troubles  that  oppress 
us,  because  their  spontaneous  tendency  to  occupy  the 
mind  is  more  than  a  match  for  the  ideas  that  we  are  able 
to  bring  before  us  by  the  association  of  ideas. 

Can  Association  by  Similarity  be  Explained  by 
Association  by  Contiguity  ?  —  Some  psychologists  at- 
tempt to  explain  association  by  similarity  by  association 
by  contiguity.  The  following  quotation  from  Thomas 
Brown  will  explain  their  position  :  "  A  ruff  like  that  worn 


204  ASSOCIATION    OF  IDEAS. 

by  Queen  Elizabeth  brings  before  us  the  sovereign  her- 
self, though  the  person  who  wears  the  ruff  may  have  no 
other  circumstance  of  resemblance ;  .  .  .  it  is  necessary 
only  that  a  part  of  the  complexity  (the  Queen)  should  be 
recalled  —  as  the  ruff  —  to  bring  back  all  the  other  parts, 
by  the  mere  principle  of  contiguity.  ...  In  like  manner 
we  might  be  able  to  reduce  every  case  of  suggestion"  — 
association  —  "  from  direct  resemblance  to  the  influence 
of  mere  contiguity." 

We  might  state  his  illustration  this  way  :  ruff  -f-  a  b  c  d 
(abed  meaning  a  person  wearing  it)  recalls  ruff  -f-  efgh 
(?fgh  meaning  Elizabeth),  because  the  thought  of  Eliza- 
beth and  the  ruff  were  in  our  minds  at  the  same  time. 

Can  Association  by  Contiguity  be  Explained  by 
Association  by  Similarity  ?  —  Others  explain  association 
by  contiguity  by  association  by  similarity.  The  same 
example  can  be  used  to  illustrate  their  position.  They 
would  say,  granted  that  ruff  -\-abcd  recalls  ruff  -|-  efg h 
because  there  is  a  ruff  in  both  cases,  yet  the  ruff  that 
Elizabeth  wore  is  not  the  one  we  see  now.  Let  R  stand 
for  the  ruff  we  see  now  and  R'  for  the  ruff  worn  by  Eliza- 
beth, and  we  can  symbolize  the  facts  in  this  form  :  Rabcd 
recalls  R'efgh.  Stated  in  this  form,  they  say,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  Rabcd  recalls  R'efg  h  because  of  the  likeness 
between  R  and  R'. 

I  think  we  shall  agree  that  the  latter  have  only  explained 
why  R  recalls  R'.  To  account  for  the  fact  that  we  think  of 
efgh  also,  I  think  we  must  say  R'  recalls  efgh  because  R' 
and  efgh  were  thought  of  at  the  same  time.  In  other  words, 
association  by  contiguity  is  an  ultimate  mental  law,  ulti- 
mate because  it  can  not  be  analyzed  into  anything  simpler. 


FUNDAMENTAL  LAW    OF  ASSOCIATION.  205 

Fundamental  Law  of  Association.  —  We  have,  then, 
as  our  fundamental  law  of  association  the  following :  One 
thought,  idea,  or  experience  tends  to  recall  similar 
thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiences,  and  all  other  thoughts, 
ideas,  or  experiences  that  were  in  the  mind  at  the  same 
time.  Remembering  the  influence  exerted  upon  associa- 
tion by  the  apprehension  of  inner  relations,  we  see  that 
the  above  law  requires  qualification  :  One  thought,  idea,  or 
experience  tends  to  recall  similar  thoughts,  ideas,  or  expe- 
riences, and  all  other  thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiences  that 
were  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time,  the  latter  with  a  force 
proportionate  to  the  number  and  clearness  of  the  inner 
relations  apprehended  between  them  and  the  attention  we 
bestow  upon  them. 

Explanation  of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  —  But,  after 
all,  what  does  this  so-called  law  amount  to  ?  If  we  ex- 
amine it  closely,  we  shall  see  that  all  it  does  is  to  describe 
the  facts.  When  we  are  thinking  of  one  thing,  we  are 
likely  the  next  moment  to  find  ourselves  thinking  of  some 
similar  thing,  or  of  something  which  we  have  thought  of 
before  when  we  were  thinking  of  that  thing.  That  is 
what  the  law  states,  but  as  to  why  it  is  so,  it  is  as  silent 
as  the  sphynx.  Can  we  assign  a  cause  for  the  association 
of  ideas  ?  Can  we  tell  why  it  is  that  the  thought  of  one 
thing  tends  to  recall  the  thought  of  some  other  thing  ? 

Physical  Basis.  —  There  seems  good  reason  for  sup- 
posing that  the  association  of  ideas  is  due  to  the  law  of 
habit  in  the  nervous  system.  The  similarity  between  the 
phenomena  of  habit  and  association  by  contiguity  is  evi- 
dent at  a  glance.  Now,  if  we  suppose  —  as  we  must  — 


2O6  ASSOCIATION    OF   IDEAS. 

that  there  is  a  physical  basis  for  these  thoughts  or  ideas 
associated  by  contiguity,  we  shall  see  that  there  is  reason 
for  supposing  that  one  thought  recalling  another  thought 
that  has  been  in  the  mind  before  in  connection  with  it,  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  one  brain  change  tends  to  excite  another 
brain  change  which  has  been  active  before  in  connection 
with  it.  We  have  seen  that  the  various  parts  of  the  cortex 
are  connected  with  each  other  by  fibres  called  association 
fibres.  It  is  these  fibres  which  are  supposed  to  be  the 
conductors  along  which  the  nervous  current  passes  from 
one  part  of  the  cortex  to  another  which  has  been  in  a  state 
of  excitement  at  the  same  time. 

Further,  if  we  suppose  that  similar  ideas  have  their  physi- 
cal basis  in  the  same  part  of  the  brain  —  as  the  evidence 
requires  us  to  do  at  least  to  a  certain  extent,  since  it  has 
already  been  proved,  as  we  have  seen,  that  sensations  of 
sight  are  localized  in  a  particular  part  of  the  cortex  — 
we  shall  be  able  to  form  a  crude  sort  of  notion  of  how  it 
happens  that  thinking  of  one  thing  tends  to  make  us  think 
of  a  similar  thing.  The  thought  of  the  one  thing  is  due 
to  the  excitement  of  some  of  the  same  cortical  cells  whose 
excitation  caused  the  thought  of  the  preceding  thing,  and 
therefore  the  excitation  of  the  cells  corresponding  to  the 
thought  of  one  thing  causes,  by  the  law  of  habit,  the 
excitation  of  the  cells  corresponding  to  the  thought  of 
the  other  thing. 

Limitations  of  such  Explanations.  —  But  if  we  accept 

this  crude  explanation  as  entirely  complete  and  satisfactory 

—  and  it  is  far  from  it  —  there  are  some  facts  which  neither 

it  nor  any  other  physical  explanation  has  ever  made  clear. 

Granted,  for  example,  that  the  excitation  of  similar  parts 


QUESTIONS.  207 

of  the  brain  causes  similar  thoughts  to  arise  in  the  mind, 
how  do  we  know  that  those  thoughts  are  similar  ?  The 
existence  of  similar  thoughts  is  one  thing ;  the  conscious- 
ness of  their  similarity  is  a  radically  different  thing. 

But  the  thorough  discussion  of  these  questions  is  too 
difficult  for  such  elementary  study  as  ours.  If  you  wish 
to  see  the  best  explanation  that  has  ever  been  given  of 
the  association  of  ideas,  read  Professor  James's  Psychology, 
and  if  you  wish  to  see  a  forcible  statement  of  the  limita- 
tions of  all  such  explanations,  read  Professor  Ladd's  Physio- 
logical Psychology. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  Illustrate  what  is  meant  by  association  of  ideas  from  your  own 
experience. 

2.  Illustrate  from  your  own  experience  the   different  kinds  of 
association. 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  logical  association  and  associa- 
tion by  contiguity  ? 

4.  Explain  the  different  names  for  association  by  contiguity. 

5.  Explain  the  various  reasons  why  things  logically  associated  tend 
to  recall  each  other. 

6.  State  the  two  laws  of  association,  and  explain  the  attempts  to 
derive  one  from  the  other. 

7.  State  verbatim  the  formula  in  which  the  two  may  be  stated. 

SUGGESTIVE    QUESTIONS. 

1 .  Explain  ideas  in  the  phrase,  association  of  ideas. 

2.  A  child  seeing  a  snake  licking  out  its  tongue,  said  it  was  mak- 
ing faces  at  him.     What  kind  of  association  was  that? 

3.  I  read  to-day  the  following  sentence  from  Goethe :  "Take  care 
of  the  beautiful,  and  the  useful  will  take  care  of  itself,"  and  at  once, 
thought  of  Spencer's  essay  on  "What  Knowledge  is  of  Most  Worth." 
Why? 

4.  What  kind  of  associations  do  children  first  form  ? 


LESSON    XXII. 

PERCEPTION. 

Knowledge  Begins  with  Sensations.  —  We  have  seen 
already  that  all  knowledge  takes  its  rise  in  sensation.  The 
mental  history  of  every  human  being  begins  with  its  first 
sensation.  Before  the  first  sensation,  the  only  difference 
between  a  human  being  and  any  other  growing  thing  —  a 
tree,  for  instance  —  so  far  as  mind  is  concerned,  consists 
in  the  fact  that  the  former  possesses  the  potentiality  of 
mind.  This  potentiality  first  begins  to  become  actuality 
when  the  human  being  experiences  its  first  sensations. 

Sensations    Exist    before    they  are    Known.  —  But 

although  knowledge  takes  its  rise  in  sensation,  it  by  no 
means  follows  that  the  first  experience  of  sensations  con- 
stitutes the  beginning  of  knowledge.  If  we  consider  what 
knowledge  is,  we  shall  see  that,  in  the  nature  of  the  case, 
the  mind  must  have  sensations  before  it  knows  it  has 
them.  I  do  not  mean  merely  that  a  fact  must  exist  in 
order  to  be  known.  That,  of  course,  is  true  of  sensations, 
but  more  than  that  is  true.  Sensations  not  only  must 
exist  in  order  to  be  known,  but  they  may  exist  —  and  often 
do  —  for  a  considerable  period  before  they  are  known ; 
and  I  think,  if  we  realize  what  knowledge  is,  we  shall  see 
that  in  the  nature  of  the  case  this  must  be  so. 

208 


WHAT    IS    KNOWLEDGE  ?  209 

What  is  Knowledge  ?  —  What  is  it  to  know  a  thing  ? 
It  is  to  put  it  into  a  class,  is  it  not  ?  A  child  sees  a 
menagerie,  and  fixes  his  eyes  on  an  animal  unknown  to 
him.  In  what  does  his  ignorance  of  it  consist  ?  In  his 
inability  to  class  it.  He  looks  at  it  steadily,  and  suddenly 
shouts,  "  Oh,  it  is  an  elephant ! "  What  has  happened  ? 
How  is  it  that  ignorance  has  given  place  to  knowledge? 
He  has  suddenly  noticed  the  resemblance  between  this 
unknown  object  and  certain  pictures  he  has  seen  in  his 
reading-book ;  he  has  put  it  into  a  class,  and  when  he  has 
classed  it  he  knows  it. 

This  putting  things  into  classes  constitutes  the  essence 
of  all  knowing.  Some  kinds  of  knowledge  we  call  science 
—  orderly,  systematic  knowledge  —  knowledge  of  laws  and 
causes  and  principles ;  other  kinds  we  call  unscientific, 
because  in  these  cases  our  knowledge  is  unsystematic  and 
disconnected.  But  whether  we  know  scientifically  or  un- 
scientifically, in  order  to  know  a  thing  we  must  classify  it, 
and  in  the  act  of  classification  consists  our  knowledge  of 
it.  Before  Newton,  no  one  understood  the  motions  of  the 
moon.  He  helped  us  to  understand  them  —  explained 
them,  as  we  say  —  by  helping  us  to  classify  them.  But  in 
what  does  our  understanding  of  them  consist  ?  Merely  in 
that  we  have  put  them  into  a  class  along  with  many 
familiar  facts.  As  the  child  felt  that  he  knew  the  animal 
in  the  menagerie  when  he  noticed  its  resemblance  to  the 
pictures  he  had  seen  in  his  reading-book,  so  we  feel  that 
we  understand  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  when 
we  have  put  them  into  the  same  class  with  familiar  facts, 
such  as  the  falling  of  a  leaf  or  the  dropping  of  a  stone. 
As  to  the  cause  of  these  motions  —  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
force  upon  which  they  depend  —  we  are  as  ignorant  to-day 


210  PERCEPTION. 

as  were  those  old  Chaldaeans  who  used  to  stand  on  the 
plains  of  Chaldaea  gazing  up  into  the  sky  with  that  wonder- 
ing curiosity  which  has  been  so  well  called  the  mother  of 
knowledge.  We  call  it  gravity,  and  think  we  know  all 
about  it,  because  when  the  mind  sees  the  resemblance 
between  a  strange  fact  and  familiar  facts  the  sense  of 
mystery  is  gone.  Suppose  we  should  ask  what  is  the 
cause  of  death,  would  you  think  it  a  sufficient  answer  to 
say  that  all  things  die  ?  That  is  a  precise  illustration  of 
our  explanation  of  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 
What  makes  the  heavenly  bodies  move  ?  The  law  of 
gravitation,  or  the  force  of  gravity,  is  answered.  But  that 
is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  all  bodies  move. 

If,  then,  all  knowing  is  merely  classifying  —  if  a  thing 
unknown  is  merely  a  thing  unclassified  —  the  first  sensa- 
tions must  be  unknown.  A  boy  can  not  put  his  first  piece 
of  money  in  his  purse  with  the  rest  of  his  money,  because 
he  has  no  other  money.  So  the  first  sensation  can  not  be 
classed  with  preceding  sensations,  because,  since  it  is  the 
first,  it  has  no  predecessors.  Knowledge,  then,  takes  its 
rise  in  sensations,  not  in  the  sense  that  the  first  experience 
of  sensations  constitutes  the  beginning  of  knowledge,  but 
in  the  sense  that  sensations  constitute  the  first  material 
upon  which  the  mind 's  powers  of  knowing  are  exerted. 

Characteristics  of  the  First  Sensations.  —  Observa- 
tions of  new-born  children  will  not  only  confirm  this 
reasoning,  but  will  lead  us  to  suppose  that  for  some  little 
period  in  the  beginning  of  a  child's  life  there  is  no  knowl- 
edge of  sensations.  Knowledge  begins  with  attention. 
Not  till  the  child  attends  to  his  sensations  can  he  be  said 
to  know  them  in  any  proper  sense  of  the  word.  But  what 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF   FIRST    SENSATIONS.       2  I  I 

shall  we  say  of  these  sensations  before  they  are  known  ? 
What  characteristics  do  they  have  ?  None  whatever.  Our 
sensations  are  tliis  rather  than  that — sensations  of  color 
rather  than  sensations  of  sound  —  through  being  known. 
Before  they  are  known  —  before  they  are  individualized 
through  being  attended  to  and  classed  —  we  can  call  them 
sensations  of  sound,  for  example,  only  in  the  sense  that 
they  are  occasioned  by  the  stimulation  of  the  auditory 
nerve  We  speak  of  this  sensation  and  that  idea  because 
we  have  fixed  our  attention  upon  the  fact  so  individualized, 
and  have  chosen  to  consider  it  as  a  whole.  But  all  the 
experiences  we  have  at  any  moment  are  parts  of  one 
indivisible  whole,  and  such  distinctness  as  they  have  is  the 
result  of  a  gradual  process  of  differencing  brought  about 
by  attention  and  classification.  Ward  well  says :  "  It  is 
impossible  for  us  now  to  imagine  the  effects  of  years  of 
experience  removed,  or  to  picture  the  character  of  our 
infantile  presentations  "  —  sensations  —  "  before  our  inter- 
ests had  led  us  habitually  to  concentrate  attention  on  some 
and  to  ignore  others,  whose  intensity  thus  diminished  as 
that  of  the  former  increased.  In  place  of  the  many  things 
which  we  can  now  see  and  hear,  not  merely  would  there 
then  be  a  confused  presentation  of  the  whole  field  of 
vision,  and  of  a  mass  of  indistinguished  sounds,  but  even 
the  difference  between  sights  and  sounds  themselves  would 
be  without  its  present  distinctness.  Thus  the  farther  we 
go  back,  the  nearer  we  approach  to  a  total  presentation" 

—  experience  —  " .  .  .  in  which  differences  are  latent." 
This,  then,  is  the  material  first  presented  to  the  mind 

—  an  undifferenced,  unindividualized,  confused,  indefinite 
mass  of  sensational  experience  due  to  the  excitation  of  the 
various  sensory  nerves  —  an  experience  not  of  this  and  that 


212  PERCEPTION. 

and  the  other,  because  attention  has  not  discriminated  the 
elements  of  experience  into  "thises"  and  "thats"  and 
"others";  this  is  the  material  first  presented  to  the  mind 
through  the  senses.  But  what  do  the  senses  seem  to  tell 
us  now  ? 

What  the  Senses  Tell  us  of  Objects.  —  Put  an  apple 
on  your  table  and  sit  far  enough  away  from  it  to  prevent 
it  from  affecting  any  sense  but  the  sense  of  sight.  What 
do  you  learn  about  it  through  the  sense  of  sight  ?  Merely 
its  color.  But  what  is  color  ?  A  quality  of  objects,  we 
should  have  said  a  little  while  ago.  But  have  we  not  seen 
that  this  quality  of  objects,  this  color  of  the  apple,  is 
simply  a  sensation,  a  state  of  our  minds  ?  A  sensation, 
we  have  seen,  is  that  simple  mental  state  that  directly 
follows  the  last  change  in  the  brain  that  results  from  the 
stimulation  of  a  sensory  nerve.  Is  any  nerve  stimulated  in 
this  case  ?  Yes ;  the  optic  nerve.  The  waves  of  light 
strike  the  retina  of  the  eye  and  cause  a  change  in  it,  and 
this  in  the  adjacent  particles  of  the  optic  nerve,  and  these 
in  the  particles  next  to  them,  and  so  on  until  the  brain  is 
reached  ;  and  then  —  what  happens  then  ?  Why  then,  as 
we  have  seen,  there  follows  a  sensation  of  color. 

Close  your  eyes  now,  and  request  a  friend  to  bring  the 
apple  near  enough  to  you  to  enable  you  to  smell  it.  What 
does  the  sense  of  smell  tell  you  about  it  ?  Simply  its  odor. 
But  what  is  odor  ?  Is  it  not  evident  that  it  is  simply  a 
sensation  ?  It  is  unnecessary  to  repeat  the  reasonings  of 
the  last  paragraph.  We  have  again  a  stimulation  of  a 
sensory  nerve,  a  change  all  along  the  nerve,  a  change  in 
the  brain,  and  then  —  a  sensation. 

Evidently  all  that  the  senses  tell  us  of  objects  is  the 


QUESTIONS.  213 

sensations  they  produce  in  our  minds.  But  this  is  not 
what  they  seem  to  tell  us.  They  seem  to  tell  us  of  objects, 
and  of  these  (i)  as  having  definite  qualities,  and  (2)  occu- 
pying a  definite  position  in  space.  The  apple  that  the 
sense  of  sight  reveals  to  me  is  an  object  having  certain 
definite  qualities  —  round,  red,  mellow,  etc.  —  and  in  a 
certain  place  —  on  the  window-sill  some  ten  feet  away. 

Problem  of  Perception.  —  In  some  way,  then,  those 
undifferenced,  unindividualized,  indefinite  sensations  with 
which  our  mental  life  began  not  only  become  definite,  but 
are,  as  it  were,  projected  out  of  us,  and  regarded  as  quali- 
ties of  external  objects.  How  do  they  get  these  three 
characteristics  ?  ( i )  How  does  a  sensation  that  was  not 
first  known  even  as  a  sensation  of  color,  for  example, 
become  known  as  a  definite  sensation  of  color  —  say  a  par- 
ticular shade  of  red  ?  (2)  How  does  it  become  localized 
—  projected  at  a  certain  distance  —  say  ten  feet  away  ? 
(3)  How  does  it  become  regarded  as  a  quality  of  an 
external  object,  such  as  an  apple  ?  To  answer  these  three 
questions  is  to  explain  the  problem  of  perception. 


QUESTIONS    ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  two 
lessons  on  sensation. 

2.  In  what  does  knowledge  consist? 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  scientific  and  unscientific  knowl- 
edge? 

4.  Show  that  the  first  sensations  can  not  be  known. 

5.  What  is  meant  by  the  assertion  that  knowledge  takes  its  rise  in 
sensation  ? 

6.  What  is  the  character  of  our  first  sensations  ? 


214  PERCEPTION. 

7.  State  and  explain  the  quotation  from  Ward. 

8.  What  do  the  senses  tell  us  of  objects  ? 

9.  What  do  they  seem  to  tell  us  ? 

10.    State  the  three  questions  which  a  theory  of  perception  has  to 
answer. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  If  the  first  sensation  is  not  known,  how  can  the  knowledge  of 
sensations  originate  ? 

2.  Is  the  assertion,  knowledge  begins  with  station,  equivalent  to 
afl  our  ideas  were  derived  from  sensations?     If  not,  what  is  the 
difference  ? 

3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  terms,  sensationalist,  empiricist, 
transcendentalist  ? 


LESSON    XXIII. 

PERCEPTION. 
(Continued.) 

WE  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  what  the  senses  really 
tell  us  of  objects  is  how  they  affect  us  —  tlie  sensations 
produced  by  them  in  our  minds  —  but  that  they  seem  to 
tell  us  of  objects  themselves  as  having  certain  qualities, 
and  occupying  a  certain  place. 

What  the  Mind  Does  when  it  Perceives.  —  What  does 
the  mind  do  to  its  sensations  of  color  and  smell  and  taste 
in  order  to  perceive  colors,  odors,  and  tastes  as  qualities  of 
objects  ?  It  groups  them  together,  does  it  not  ?  When 
you  look  at  an  apple,  you  group  its  color,  taste,  and  smell 
together  as  qualities  of  one  object.  Sully  puts  it  as  fol- 
lows :  "  Sense-impressions"  —  he  means  sensations  —  "are 
the  alphabet  by  which  we  spell  out  the  objects  presented 
to  us.  In  order  to  grasp  or  apprehend  these  objects,  these 
letters  must  be  put  together  after  the  manner  of  words. 
Thus  the  apprehension  of  an  apple  by  the  eye  involves 
the  putting  together  of  various  sensations  of  sight,  touch, 
and  taste.  This  is  the  mind's  own  work,  and  is  known  as 
perception."  He  compares  sensations  to  the  letters  of 
the  alphabet ;  and  precisely  as  in  reading  we  put  the 
letters  b,  r,  i,  c,  k  together  and  read  "  brick,"  so,  in  per- 

215 


2l6  PERCEPTION. 

ceiving,  we  put  together  certain  sensations  and  thus  gain  a 
knowledge  of  objects. 

But  this  grouping  of  sensations  together  is  not  all  we 
do  when  we  perceive.  As  long  as  your  sensations  seem 
to  be  sensations,  you  do  not  perceive.  You  perceive  only 
when  they  seem  to  be  what  we  have  seen  they  are  hot  — 
qualities  actually  forming  a  part  of  the  objects  in  the  world 
about  us,  or  states  of  our  own  bodies. 

To  perceive,  then,  is  to  group  sensations  together  and 
regard  them  as  qualities  of  external  objects.  But  is  that 
entirely  accurate?  When  we  perceive  an  apple  by  the 
sense  of  sight,  we  group  the  sensation  of  color  with  recol- 
lections of  past  sensations  —  taste,  smell,  feeling  of  mellow- 
ness, etc.  —  do  we  not?  Strictly  speaking,  then,  what  we 
do  when  we  perceive  is  to  make  a  group  consisting  of  one 
or  more  sensations,  and  ideas  of  sensations,  and  regard  the 
group  as  qualities  of  an  external  object. 

The  state  of  mind  that  results  from  perception  is  called 
a  percept.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  confuse  this  with 
image.  While  you  are  looking  at  an  apple,  your  state  of 
mind  is  a  percept ;  when  you  turn  your  head  away  and 
think  about  it,  the  picture  that  you  form  of  it  is  an  image. 

In  order  to  reach  a  percept,  the  mind  must  take  three 
steps:  (i)  it  must  be  conscious  of  a  definite  sensation; 
(2)  it  must  group  this  sensation  with  images  of  sensations 
already  experienced ;  and  (3)  it  must  think  of  these  sen- 
sations as  qualities  of  objects  having  a  more  or  less  definite 
position  in  space. 

To  explain  the  problem  of  perception,  then,  is  to  explain 
how  the  mind  comes  to  take  these  three  steps. 

I  have  no  intention  of  attempting  to  explain  perception. 
It  is  universally  conceded  to  be  one  of  the  most  difficult 


THE    MIND  AND    DEFINITE    SENSATIONS.          2 1/ 

subjects  in  Psychology.  My  purpose  will  be  accomplished 
if  we  can  get  a  definite  idea  of  the  problem  that  a  theory 
of  perception  undertakes  to  solve,  and  some  general  idea 
of  what  seems  to  be  the  true  solution. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  more  convenient  to  consider  the  prob- 
lem of  perception  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  stated  in  the 
last  lesson,  although  the  two  forms  are  in  fact  identical,  as 
a  little  consideration  will  enable  us  to  see. 

How  the  Mind  Becomes  Conscious  of  Definite  Sensa- 
tions.—  (i)  How  is  it  that  the  mind  becomes  conscious 
of  definite  sensations  —  that  unindividualized  sensations 
come  to  be  individualized,  and  known  as  such  and  such 
sensations  ?  That  question  our  study  of  attention  enables 
us  to  answer.  If  a  child's  experience  consisted  entirely  of 
sensations  of  sound,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  loudest  — 
those  having  the  character  of  greatest  intensity  —  would 
be  sure  to  be  attended  to  in  the  course  of  time.  They 
would  stand  out  in  the  foreground  of  his  consciousness  — 
would  be  individualized  —  and  thus  lose  the  indefiniteness 
that  characterizes  a  child's  experiences  in  the  beginnings 
of  its  mental  life.  Evidently,  also,  the  pleasurable  or 
painful  character  of  its  experiences  would  have  the  same 
effect,  since  it  is  likewise  a  cause  of  attention. 

How  Sensations  Become  Localized.  —  (2)  How  is  it 

that  these  sensations  become  localized  —  projected  into 
our  bodies  and  into  the  external  world  ?  Very  young 
children  evidently  do  not  localize  their  sensations.  When 
painful  operations  are  performed  upon  them,  their  hands 
do  not  need  to  be  held,  since  they  do  not  know  where  the 
pain  is.  How  do  they  finally  come  to  get  this  knowledge  ? 


2l8  PERCEPTION. 

The  Local  Sign.  —  Whether  your  little  finger  is  pinched, 
or  touched,  or  burned,  or  bruised,  or  cut,  you  locate  the 
sensation  in  it  —  you  know  that  it  is  your  little  finger  that  is 
affected.  How  is  it  that  you  are  able  to  do  this  ?  How 
is  it  that  when  such  different  sensations  as  those  of  a  mere 
touch,  a  burn,  a  bruise,  a  cut,  a  pinch,  report  themselves 
to  consciousness,  you  are  able  to  refer  them  all  to  the  same 
place  ?  Precisely  as  you  can  tell  what  country  an  Irish- 
man comes  from  as  soon  as  you  hear  him  talk.  There  are 
tall  Irishmen  and  short  Irishmen,  stout  Irishmen  and  lean 
Irishmen,  Irishmen  that  are  handsome  and  Irishmen  that 
are  homely ;  but,  no  matter  how  widely  they  differ  in 
appearance,  as  soon  as  you  hear  one  talk  you  know  that 
he  hails  from  the  land  of  Erin.  And  precisely  as  the 
brogue  of  an  Irishman  enables  you,  as  soon  as  you  hear 
him  speak,  to  tell  his  nationality,  so,  since  we  are  able  to 
locate  in  the  same  place  the  various  sensations  that  arise 
in  connection  with  the  little  finger,  those  sensations  must 
have  some  characteristic  in  common.  A  mere  touch,  a 
burn,  a  bruise,  a  cut,  a  pinch,  differing  as  widely  as  they 
do,  could  not  be  referred  to  the  same  place  if  they  did  not 
speak  a  language  that  betrayed  their  origin.  The  charac- 
teristic of  our  sensations  —  the  brogue  which  betrays  their 
origin  —  by  means  of  which  we  are  able  to  locate  them, 
first  in  our  bodies,  and  some  of  them  afterwards  in  the 
external  world,  is  called  the  local  sign. 

How  Local  Signs  are  Apprehended  as  Signs  of  Place. 
—  But  perhaps  the  first  time  you  noticed  the  brogue  of  an 
Irishman  you  did  not  know  what  country  he  came  from. 
If  you  had  noticed  it  in  a  dozen  or  fifty  people,  without 
knowing  they  were  from  Ireland,  you  would  not  have 


LOCAL   SIGNS  AS    SIGNS    OF  PLACE.  2IQ 

known  that  it  was  a  mark  of  Irish  nationality.  Not  until 
you  knew  that  there  was  such  a  country  as  Ireland,  and 
that  the  men  whose  brogue  you  noticed  were  natives  of  it, 
could  the  brogue  of  an  Irishman  mean  to  you  what  it 
means  now.  Granted,  then,  that  the  sensations  we  receive 
from  the  various  parts  of  our  bodies  have  each  their  own 
local  signs,  these  local  signs  are  still  characteristics  of  sen- 
sations ;  how  can  the  mind  regard  characteristics  of  sensa- 
tions as  signs  of  what  is  not  sensation  ?  Evidently  it  is 
possible  only  as  the  mind  has  in  some  way  an  idea  of  the 
thing  signified.  As  a  brogue  could  not  mean  Irish  nation- 
ality if  we  did  not  know  there  is  such  a  country  as  Ireland, 
so  local  signs  could  not  be  signs  of  locality  if  we  had  no 
idea  of  space.  But  the  very  thing  we  are  trying  to  explain 
is  how  unlocalized,  unspatialized  sensations  become  local- 
ized. Are  we  to  say  that  they  have  local  signs,  but  that, 
in  order  that  these  signs  may  have  any  meaning,  we  must 
have  the  idea  of  space  already  ?  Certainly  not ;  for  by 
supposition  all  that  we  know  is  unlocalized  sensations. 
But  if  we  had  no  idea  of  space  before  the  apprehension  of 
these  local  signs,  and  if  we  must  have  it  in  order  to  use 
them,  as  we  unquestionably  do  in  localizing  our  sensations, 
the  local  signs  must  have  been  originally  apprehended  as 
signs  of  place.  You  can  not  explain  why  a  certain  brain 
change  is  followed  by  sensation  ;  all  you  can  say  about  it 
is  that  it  is  so.  Nor  can  you  explain  why  some  of  these 
sensations  are  sensations  of  color ;  when  we  say  that  it  is 
so,  we  have  reached  the  end  of  our  string.  The  conclusion 
to  which  our  reasoning  leads  us  is  that  just  as  certain 
brain  changes  are  followed  by  those  mental  facts  which 
we  call  sensations,  so  the  apprehension  of  certain  charac- 
teristics of  our  sensations  is  followed  by  the  apprehension 


22O  PERCEPTION. 

of  space.  We  are  able  to  locate  our  sensations  ;  we  could 
not  do  it  in  the  beginning  of  our  mental  life ;  we  could 
not  locate  widely  different  sensations  in  the  same  place  if 
they  did  not  have  some  common  characteristic  —  some 
local  sign  ;  this  local  sign  could  not  be  to  the  mind  a  sign 
of  place  unless  the  idea  of  place  existed  before,  or  began 
to  exist  at  the  same  time  with  the  apprehension  of  the 
local  sign;  the  idea  of  place  did  not  exist  before;  there- 
fore it  began  to  exist  at  the  same  time  with  the  apprehen- 
sion of  the  local  sign.  Why  it  did  we  can  not  tell ;  but 
everything  that  we  believe  rests,  in  the  last  analysis,  on 
the  inexplicable. 

What  Local  Signs  Consist  of.  —  Assuming  the  exist- 
ence of  local  signs,  and  a  native  power  to  apprehend  them 
as  signs  of  place,  we  can  see  how  the  mind  would  grad- 
ually form  an  idea  of  the  place  occupied  by  the  body. 
Certain  sensations  from  the  various  parts  of  it,  each  having 
its  own  local  sign,  would  give  an  account  of  the  different 
localities  where  the  nerve  originated  that  occasioned  them. 
With  the  idea  of  the  place  occupied  by  his  body,  the  child 
would  soon  form  an  idea  of  the  place  occupied  by  bodies 
around  him.  By  grasping  first  his  wrist  and  then  a  stick, 
the  place-occupying  quality  of  his  wrist  would  naturally  be 
transferred  to  the  stick. 

As  to  what  the  local  signs  consist  of,  there  is  con- 
siderable diversity  of  opinion.  Indeed,  it  is  a  question  of 
so  much  difficulty  that  the  discussion  of  it  is  out  of  place 
in  an  elementary  text.  I  will  merely  add  that  only  the  sen- 
sations of  sight  and  touch  and  the  muscular  sense  seem  to 
have  local  signs,  seem  to  possess  characteristics  that  give 
information  as  to  place. 


GROUPING    OF  OUR    SENSATIONS.  221 

Why  do  we  Group  our  Sensations  together? — (3)  How 

do  we  come  to  group  our  sensations  together  and  regard 
them  as  qualities  of  external  objects  ? 

Briefly,  becatise  they  occur  together,  or  in  an  invariable 
order.  Every  moment  of  our  waking  lives  we  are  ex- 
periencing sounds  and  touches  and  tastes  and  smells  and 
colors.  Those  which  we  are  in  the  habit  of  experiencing 
together,  or  in  connection  with  each  other,  we  refer, 
through  the  influence  of  the  laws  of  association,  to  the 
same  thing.  A  physician  named  Cheselden  performed  an 
operation  upon  a  man  who  was  born  blind,  which  restored 
the  man's  sight.  When  he  first  began  to  see,  everything 
seemed  to  touch  his  eyes.  Why  ?  Because  we  can  not 
see  distance  —  because  what  we  call  seeing  distance  is 
interpreting  the  signs  of  distance  —  and  he  had  not  then 
learned  the  signs  of  distance.  He  knew  cats  and  dogs 
perfectly  by  the  sense  of  touch,  but  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish them  by  sight.  Why  ?  Because  he  had  not  con- 
nected, by  the  law  of  association,  the  way  a  cat  feels  with 
the  way  a  cat  looks.  Looking  at  a  cat  one  day  shortly 
after  his  sight  was  restored,  and  being  in  doubt  as  to  what 
it  was,  he  caught  hold  of  it  and  said,  "Ah,  pussie,  I  shall 
know  you  next  time."  Why  ?  Because  he  associated  the 
impression  she  made  upon  his  mind  through  sight  with 
the  impression  made  through  touch.  A  child  sees  a  robin 
on  a  sunflower,1  and  hears  it  sing.  He  does  not  connect 
the  odor  and  color  of  the  sunflower  with  the  color  and 
song  of  the  robin,  because  they  do  not  habitually  occur 
together.  If  every  time  the  child  saw  a  sunflower  a  robin 
was  on  it,  and  if  he  never  saw  a  robin  except  on  a  sun- 

1  This  illustration  was  suggested  by  one  of  Ward's  in  the  Encyclopedia 
Britannica. 


222  PERCEPTION. 

flower,  he  would  connect  them  together  as  parts  of  one 
whole.  The  odor,  feel,  taste,  color,  and  solidity  of  an  apple 
are  all  grouped  together  because  they  invariably  occur 
together.  When  we  have  one  of  these  experiences,  the  law 
of  association  by  contiguity  makes  us  think  of  the  rest. 

Summary.  —  Summing  up,  then,  (i)  Attention  to  in- 
definite sensations  makes  them  definite  —  enables  us  to 
take  the  first  step  towards  the  formation  of  a  percept. 

(2)  As  these  sensations  become  definite,  the  mind  grad- 
ually becomes  conscious  of  local  signs  which  some  of  them 
possess,  and  by  a  native,  original  power  of  interpretation 
refers  the  sensations  possessing  them  to  a  certain  place. 

(3)  Through  the  laws  of  association  the  sensations  which 
occur  together  are  referred  to  the  same  place  and  regarded 
as  qualities  of  the  same  thing. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE   TEXT. 

1 .  Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  preceding  lesson. 

2.  State  and  explain  Sully's  comparison. 

3.  What  does  the  mind  do  to  its  sensations  when  it  perceives  ? 

4.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  percept  and  an  image  ? 

5.  Explain  how  the  mind  becomes  conscious  of  definite  sensa- 
tions. 

6.  Explain  how  it  comes  to  localize  them. 

7.  What  is  a  local  sign,  and  how  do  you  know  our  sensations  have 
such  signs? 

8.  How  is  it  that  the  mind  is  able  to  interpret  the  local  signs  of 
sensation  as  signs  of  place  ? 

9.  How  do  we  come  to  group  our  sensations  together  and  regard 
them  as  qualities  of  external  objects  ? 

10.    Explain  the  case  of  the  boy  whose  sight  was  restored  by  an 
operation  performed  by  Cheselden. 


QUESTIONS.  223 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Show  the  identity  of  the  two  forms  in  which  the  problem  of 
perception  has  been  stated. 

2.  When  you  are  in  a  car  that  is  not  moving  and  a  train  passes 
by,  your  own  car  seems  to  be  in  motion.     Why  ? 

3.  The  air  of   Italy  is  very  clear,  that  of  England  very  thick. 
What  sort  of  mistakes  would  an  Englishman  make  in  judging  of  dis- 
tance in  Italy,  and  what  sort  would  an  Italian  make  in  England,  and 
why? 

4.  What  evidences  do  young  children  show  of  mistakes  in  judg- 
ing of  distances  ? 

5.  A  child  of  three  wanted  her  mother  to  go  up  stairs  with  her  in 
order  that  she  might  get  the  stars.     Account  for  her  mistake. 


LESSON   XXIV. 

PERCEPTION   AND  EDUCATION. 

We  Create  our  own  Worlds.  —  Professor  Davidson  says 
that  to  a  very  large  extent  every  human  being  creates 
his  own  world.  .Careful  reflection  upon  the  conclusions 
reached  in  the  two  preceding  lessons  will  convince  us  that 
this  is  true.  We  are  all  familiar  with  the  ordinary  assump- 
tion that  the  world  exists  outside  of  us,  already  made,  and 
that  the  senses  constitute  a  sort  of  transparent  medium 
through  which  it  impresses  itself  upon  the  mind.  But  we 
have  learned  that  the  material  with  which  the  senses  origi- 
nally furnish  the  mind  is  not  a  knowledge  of  the  world,  is 
not  even  a  knowledge  of  definite  sensations,  but  an  inde- 
scribably confused  and  mixed-up  mass  of  sentient  expe- 
rience, which  Professor  James  has  aptly  described  as 
one  "  blooming  confusion." 

The  Material.  —  Now,  the  gradual  transformation  of 
this  blooming  confusion  into  the  world  in  which  each  of 
us  lives  is  the  mind's  own  work.  This  blooming  confusion 
constitutes  the  bricks  out  of  which  the  mind  erects  that 
imposing  and  stately  structure  which  the  senses  now  seem 
to  directly  present  to  us  as  the  world. 

Probably  there  is  no  sentence  in  this  book  which  it  will 
be  more  difficult  for  most  of  us  cordially  to  assent  to  than 

224 


ILLUSTRATIONS.  225 

this.  But,  as  it  seems  to  me  of  the  first  importance  that 
we  should  vividly  realize  it,  I  beg  to  call  attention  to  some 
illustrations  of  its  truth  in  addition  to  the  arguments  of  the 
preceding  lessons. 

Illustrations.  —  We  all  know  that  there  is  a  difference 
between  the  world  of  the  man  blind  from  birth,  and  that 
of  the  man  who  can  see ;  between  that  of  the  man  deaf 
from  birth,  and  that  of  the  man  who  can  hear.  The  world 
of  the  man  blind  from  birth  contains  no  colors ;  that  of 
the  deaf  man,  no  sounds. 

As  the  blind  man  is  shut  out  from  a  whole  world  that 
is  open  to  us,  so  a  man  whose  sense  of  sight  is  highly  cul- 
tivated lives  in  a  world  into  which  the  ordinary  man  can 
not  enter.  He  sees  a  thousand  delicate  colors,  a  thousand 
gradations  of  light  and  shade,  that  are  as  entirely  beyond 
the  range  of  the  ordinary  man's  vision  as  though  they 
came  through  a  new  sense.  Read  Ruskin's  essay  on  the 
sky  and  then  say  if  the  sky  he  saw  and  the  sky  which  we 
see  are  the  same.  "Clear"  or  "cloudy"  satisfies  us  as 
a  description  of  the  sky.  That  would  be  as  inadequate  a 
description  of  the  sky  as  it  would  be  of  a  typical  American 
to  say  that  he  is  a  human  being ! 

The  same  kind  of  difference  exists  between  the  world 
of  a  man  any  of  whose  senses  is  well  trained,  and  that  of  a 
man  whose  corresponding  sense  is  untrained.  Read  Eve's 
description  of  Eden  in  Milton's  Paradise  Lost : 

"  Fragrant  the  fertile  Earth 

After  soft  showers  ;  and  sweet  the  coming  on 
Of  grateful  Evening  mild  ;  then  silent  Night, 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  and  this  fair  Moon 
And  these  the  gems  of  Heaven,  her  starry  train ; 
But  neither  breath  of  Morn,  when  she  ascends 


226  PERCEPTION   AND    EDUCATION. 

With  charm  of  earliest  birds ;  nor  rising  Sun 
On  this  delightful  land  ;  nor  herb,  fruit,  flower, 
Glistering  with  dew ;  nor  fragrance  after  showers  ; 
Nor  grateful  Evening  mild  ;  nor  silent  Night, 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  nor  walk  by  moon, 
Or  glittering  star-light,  without  thee  is  sweet "  — 

Read  this  and  you  will  note  how  full  Milton's  world  was 
of  odors  —  "fragrant  the  fertile  Earth  after  soft  showers" 
—  and  sounds  —  "  the  silent  Night,"  "  charm  of  earliest 
birds"  —and  delicate  shades  of  color — "and  sweet  the 
coming  on  of  grateful  Evening  mild."  For  a  man  who  has 
never  noticed  the  fragrance  of  fertile  fields  after  soft 
showers,  who  has  never  noted  the  gradual  dying  of  the 
day  as  grateful  evening  comes  on,  who  has  never  been 
charmed  by  songs  of  earliest  birds,  these  things  are  as 
though  they  did  not  exist ;  they  form  no  part  of  the  world 
in  which  he  consciously  lives ;  they  are  without  effect 
upon  his  mental  life. 

We  Create  our  Moral  Worlds. — We  create  in  the 
same  sense  our  moral  world.  We  remember  some  of 
the  charges  that  were  brought  against  Washington  in  the 
fierce  party  struggles  of  his  administration  —  that  he 
would  not  accept  any  office  from  1783  to  1789  because 
there  was  none  exalted  enough  to  satisfy  his  ambition; 
that  his  professed  wish,  not  to  accept  the  presidency  a 
second  term,  was  a  mere  pretense  made  because  he  was 
afraid  he  could  not  be  elected ;  that  the  fear  that  he  could 
not  be  elected  caused  him  to  declare  that  he  would  not 
accept  the  presidency  for  a  third  term.  It  is  altogether 
possible  that  many  men  believed  these  charges.  Men  who 
act  from  motives  of  self-interest  alone  can  not  realize  the 
possibility  of  anything  else. 


PROBLEM    OF  EDUCATION.  227 

Problem  of  Education.  —  The  problem  of  education, 
then,  is  to  help  the  pupil  create  the  right  kind  of  world, 
such  a  world  as  will  form  the  basis  for  wise  thought  and 
intelligent  action,  at  the  same  time  that  it  contributes  to 
the  noblest  pleasures  of  life.  The  right  kind  of  so-called 
cultivation  of  the  observing  powers  consists  in  helping  the 
pupil  to  note  these  things  which  should  enter  into  his 
world,  with  the  hope  that  by  this  means  he  will  acquire 
the  power  to  continue  the  proper  creation  of  his  world 
without  help  from  teachers. 

Importance  of  the  Training  of  Observation.  —  From 
this  point  of  view,  the  overmastering  importance  of  the 
training  of  observation  becomes  self-evident.  Men  pay 
great  attention  to  the  garments  with  which  they  clothe 
their  bodies,  to  the  houses  with  which  they  shelter  them- 
selves. How  trifling  are  these  things  in  value  in  com- 
parison with  the  home  which  the  mind  must  make  for 
itself.  For  the  world  is  the  mind's  home.  Are  we  in 
such  constant  presence  of  law,  order,  and  rationality  as  to 
make  anything  but  rational  action  seem  repulsive  ?  Or  is 
our  world  a  world  of  vague  and  chaotic  impressions,  where 
things  seem  to  happen  by  chance  ?  Are  we  conscious  of 
the  beauties  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  of  spring  and  autumn, 
of  hill  and  valley,  of  meadow  and  woodland,  or  are  the 
great  walls  of  nature's  picture  galleries  blank,  dreary 
spaces  staring  upon  equally  blank  and  dreary  minds  ?  Is 
the  life  of  struggle  and  toil  of  the  men  and  women  about 
us  lighted  up  for  our  thinking  by  some  elements  of  un- 
selfishness, by  some  bits  of  heroism,  or  does  it  differ  from 
a  pack  of  hounds,  struggling  to  get  some  pieces  of  meat 
which  have  been  thrown  among  them,  only  by  some  super- 


228  PERCEPTION    AND    EDUCATION. 

ficial  varnishes  called  politeness,  regard  for  the  opinion  of 
others  —  which  have  least  influence  precisely  where  they 
are  needed  most  ?  The  answer  to  all  these  questions  de- 
pends on  the  nature  of  the  world  which  we  have  made  for 
ourselves. 

How  Observation  is  Cultivated.  —  When  we  so  con- 
ceive the  matter,  and  when  we  remember  the  occupations 
with  which  the  child  is  afflicted  in  the  average  primary 
school  —  dreary,  mechanical  memorizing  of  a  lot  of  dreary, 
unmeaning  symbols  —  we  can  hardly  help  congratulating 
ourselves  that  the  laws  of  most  States  forbid  children  to  be 
sent  to  school  before  the  age  of  six  —  before  they  have 
had  some  of  that  direct  contact  with  nature  which  is  the 
most  potent  stimulus  to  the  proper  conception  of  the 
world.  Dr.  Dewey  tells  us  of  a  swimming-school  in 
Chicago  where  all  the  motions  are  taught  on  dry  land. 
And  when  a  boy  who  had  mastered  the  theory  of  swim- 
ming first  tried  to  put  it  into  practice,  he  was  able  to 
report  the  results  of  his  experiment  in  a  single  word  : 
"sunk."  As  well  try  to  teach  swimming  on  dry  land, 
bicycling  in  a  carriage,  skating  in  summer  as  try  to  help  a 
pupil  form  right  conceptions  of  the  world  except  through 
constant  contact  with  it.  Dr.  Harris  calls  Colonel  Parker 
the  ideal  primary  teacher,  and  in  Colonel  Parker's  school 
the  primary  pupils  spent  the  greater  part  of  their  time 
out-of-doors. 

Opinion  of  School  Authorities.  —  But  this  is  a  waste 
of  time,  the  school  authorities  are  likely  to  say.  They 
think  it  better  for  us  to  employ  our  pupils  in  memorizing 
the  names  of  the  capitals  of  the  various  countries  of  the 


OUR  PRESENT  RESOURCES.          22Q 

world,  the  lengths  of  the  rivers,  the  heights  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  so  on.  It  is  our  fault  that  they  do.  If  they 
make  a  fetich  of  books,  it  is  because  we  teachers  have 
done  so.  Let  us  be  convinced  ourselves  that  books  are 
only  means  to  ends,  and  then  we  can  convince  the  public. 
The  difficulty  is  that  we  are  unable  to  shake  ourselves 
free  from  the  notion  that  education  consists  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  books.  Instead  of  regarding  books  as  foot-notes 
to  the  great  texts  of  nature  and  mind,  we  cause  our  pupils 
to  turn  away  from  the  study  of  mind  and  nature  that  they 
may  give  all  their  time  to  the  study  of  books.  Let  us  shake 
ourselves  free  from  this  burdensome  tradition,  and  then 
we  may  hope  that  the  general  public  will  become  free  also. 

Our  Present  Resources.  —  Indeed,  in  so  far  as  we  are 
really  convinced  of  the  importance  of  this  first-hand  study 
of  nature,  we  are  not  without  resources  even  now.  If  we 
can  not  take  our  pupils  to  nature,  we  can  induce  them  to 
go  and  tell  us  what  they  have  seen.  The  knowledge  that 
they  will  have  to  give  an  account  of  what  they  have  seen 
will  be  a  motive  for  observing  more  carefully  than  they 
otherwise  would  have  done.  And  indeed,  unless  you  are 
yourself  a  loving  observer  of  nature,  your  company  would 
be  of  little  service  to  them. 

Qualifications  of  a  Good  Primary  Teacher.  —  In  the 

School  of  the  Far-off  Future,  when  men  will  universally 
realize  the  importance  of  the  proper  development  of  the 
various  faculties  of  the  mind  as  keenly  as  trained  physiol- 
ogists to-day  realize  the  importance  of  the  health  of  the 
various  organs  of  the  body,  in  that  school,  I  believe  no 
teacher  will  be  allowed  to  enter  —  at  least  in  the  primary 


230        PERCEPTION  AND  EDUCATION. 

grades  —  until  he  has  stood  certain  tests  that  would  seem 
very  curious  to  us.  Is  the  face  of  nature  indifferent  to 
him  ?  Are  her  smiles  in  summer  and  her  frowns  in  winter 
alike  lost  on  him  ?  Can  he  look  upon  the  brooks  that 
"fret"  along  their  channels  and  the  sheep  and  the  cows 
grazing  in  the  meadows  and  the  wild  roses  growing  along 
the  hedge-rows  and  hear  the  songs  of  birds  with  no  feel- 
ings of  gladness  ?  If  so,  I  believe  he  will  be  regarded  as 
lacking  an  essential  element  of  a  teacher  of  boys  and  girls. 
The  ideal  teacher  of  the  ideal  school  will  look  on  the  face 
of  nature  with  something  of  the  same  fondness  with  which 
the  mother  looks  on  the  face  of  her  child.  As  every  act 
of  her  child  is  an  object  of  interest  to  the  mother,  so  every 
detail  of  nature  will  be  of  interest  to  this  teacher,  and  he 
will  watch  the  changes  that  pass  over  the  face  of  nature 
as  winter  gives  way  to  spring,  and  spring  to  summer,  and 
summer  gradually  dies  away  into  autumn,  with  something 
of  the  same  sad  and  yet  fond  interest  which  the  mother 
bestows  upon  her  daughter  as  she  travels  on  the  road  to 
womanhood. 

What  Children  should  be  Taught  to  Observe.  —  But 

we  are  not  living  in  the  future,  and  we  have  to  take  our- 
selves as  we  do  our  pupils  —  as  we  are,  and  make  the  best 
of  us.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  if  we  do  not  care  for 
nature  we  may  realize  the  importance  of  helping  our  pupils 
care  for  it ;  and  to  do  this,  the  only  thing  we  can  do  is  to 
give  them  motives  for  attending  to  it  more  closely  than 
they  otherwise  would  have  done.  You  might  have  them 
make  lists  of  the  various  trees  and  flowers  and  plants  and 
birds  of  the  neighborhood,  and  note  the  dates  when  the 
trees  begin  to  put  forth  their  leaves  and  the  flowers  to 


DRAWING.  231 

bloom  and  the  birds  to  build  their  nests.  If  the  birds  are 
of  a  migratory  sort,  you  should  have  your  pupils  observe 
when  they  come  and  when  they  go,  and,  in  any  case,  what 
they  feed  on,  and  how  they  build  their  nests.  You  should 
have  a  school  museum  composed  entirely  of  interesting 
objects  that  they  have  collected.  In  such  ways  you  may 
induce  them  to  become  familiar  with  every  bird  and  tree 
and  flower  and  plant  in  the  neighborhood,  and  during  the 
process  three-fourths  of  them  will  have  acquired  such  an 
interest  in  nature  as  will  make  them  good  observers  for  life. 

Drawing.  —  You  can  turn  their  fondness  for  drawing 
into  account  in  the  same  direction.  Have  them  draw  not 
pictures,  but  real  objects  from  memory,  and  the  result  will 
be  that  the  next  time  the  object  is  seen  it  will  be  observed 
much  more  closely,  and  the  image  of  it  will  be  fixed  in  the 
mind  much  more  definitely. 

Object  Lessons.  —  You  should  give  object  lessons.  But 
if  these  lessons  are  to  have  any  value,  they  must  be  care- 
fully prepared  and  carefully  given.  Some  teachers  seem 
to  imagine  that  there  is  a  virtue  in  an  object  lesson  as 
such  ;  but,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  this  is  not  so.  If  an 
object  lesson  is  of  any  use  in  cultivating  the  observing 
powers  of  your  pupils,  it  is  because  it  induces  them  to 
observe  more  closely  than  they  otherwise  would  have  done ; 
if  it  does  not  do  that,  it  will  leave  their  observing  powers 
just  where  it  found  them. 

An  object  lesson  may  be  made  to  serve  two  important 
purposes  besides  furnishing  motives  to  your  pupils  to  ob- 
serve :  You  may  make  it  a  means  of  imparting  knowledge, 
and  of  enlarging  the  range  of  their  vocabulary. 


232         PERCEPTION  AND  EDUCATION. 

Preparation  of  Object  Lessons.  —  When  you  are  pre- 
paring an  object  lesson,  you  should  make  up  your  mind  in 
precisely  what  ways  you  will  reach  these  various  ends. 
You  will,  of  course,  conduct  it  for  the  most  part  by  asking 
questions.  If  you  are  dealing  with  little  children,  you  will 
begin  by  asking  them  questions  which  they  can  answer 
with  ease,/0r  the  sake  of  interesting  them  in  the  lesson. 
Children  like  to  display  their  powers,  and  they  like  lessons 
which  give  them  opportunities  to  do  that.  But  you  will 
be  careful  to  note  that  to  interest  them  in  the  lesson  is  by 
no  means  the  same  thing  as  interesting  them  in  tJie  object. 
You  interest  them  in  the  object  when  you  ask  them 
questions  about  it  that  they  can  not  answer,  but  to  which 
they  can  find  the  answer  by  more  careful  observation. 
Accordingly,  a  part  of  your  preparation  of  an  object  lesson 
should  consist  of  such  a  careful  study  of  the  object  as  will 
enable  you  to  observe  certain  qualities  which  you  think 
have  escaped  their  attention,  in  order  that  you  may  be  able 
to  induce  them  to  study  it  more  carefully  than  they  have 
ever  done  before,  and  give  them  the  pleasure  of  finding 
out  something  for  themselves. 

You  should  carefully  decide  also  precisely  to  what  extent 
you  wish  to  enlarge  their  vocabulary.  If,  for  instance,  you 
are  giving  a  lesson  on  glass,  you  can  arrange  your  ques- 
tions so  as  to  get  them  to  tell  you  that  they  can  see  through 
it.  Then  you  can  tell  them  that  things  which  can  be  seen 
through  aie  transparent,  and  ask  them  to  name  as  many 
transparent  things  as  they  can  think  of. 

Compayre  quotes  a  sensible  paragraph  from  M.  Buisson 
on  this  subject :  "  It  is  not  desirable  to  have  the  object 
lesson  begin  and  end  at  a  fixed  hour.  Let  it  be  given  on 
the  occasion  of  a  reading  or  writing  lesson,  or  in  connec- 


QUESTIONS.  233 

tion  with  the  dictation  exercise,  with  the  lesson  in  history, 
geography,  or  grammar.  If  it  occupies  two  minutes  instead 
of  twenty,  it  will  be  only  the  better  for  that.  Often  it  will 
consist,  not  in  a  series  of  consecutive  questions,  but  in  one 
spirited,  precise,  and  pointed  question,  which  will  provoke 
a  reply  of  the  same  sort." 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  meaning  of  Professor  Davidson's  statement? 

2.  What  does  Professor  James  mean  by  "  blooming  confusion  "  ? 

3.  What  is  meant  by  the  cultivation  of  the  observing  powers,  and 
why  is  it  so  important? 

4.  What  can  we  do  in  the  way  of  training  the  senses  of  our  pupils  ? 

5.  What  do  you  regard  as  the  best  means  of  helping  your  pupils 
form  habits  of  careful  observation  ? 

6.  How  should  an  object  lesson  be  prepared,  and  for  what  pur- 
poses should  object  lessons  be  given  ? 

SUGGESTIVE    QUESTIONS. 

1.  In  what  classes  of  objects  are  children  most  interested  ? 

2.  Have  you  noticed  instances  in  which  the  home  surroundings 
of  children  exert  an  influence  upon  the  objects  they  are  interested  in  ? 

3.  At  what  age  are  children  most  interested  in  objects  ? 

4.  Show  the  relation  between  the  conclusions  reached   in  this 
lesson  and  in  the  lessons  on  attention. 


LESSON   XXV. 

MEMORY. 

Elements  of  Memory.  —  We  can  conceive  of  a  mind 
with  no  capacity  except  the  power  to  experience  sensations 
—  a  mind  limited  to  the  present  —  a  mind  whose  expe- 
riences leave  no  trace  upon  it.  Such  a  mind  would  be 
destitute  of  the  power  of  retention.  We  can  conceive  of 
a  mind  like  our  own  in  that  every  sensation,  every  expe- 
rience leaves  "  the  mind  different,  as  every  physical  change 
leaves  the  body  different,"  but  unlike  ours  in  that  an 
experience  once  gone  never  returns.  As  every  minute  in 
that  stately  and  solemn  procession  that  we  call  the  March 
of  the  Years  goes  by  never  to  return,  so  we  can  conceive 
that  the  shadow  of  those  experiences  that  we  are  conscious 
of  from  moment  to  moment,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  each 
of  them  left  the  mind  different,  might  never  fall  across  our 
conscious  life.  Such  a  mind  would  be  without  the  power 
of  reproduction.  We  can  conceive  of  a  mind,  also,  with 
laws  of  association  like  our  own  —  a  mind  constantly  con- 
scious of  images  of  some  of  its  past  experiences,  but  with- 
out the  faintest  notion  that  they  were  images  —  a  mind 
with  the  power  to  make  pictures  or  copies  of  past  events, 
but  without  the  power  to  refer  them  to  their  original. 
Such  a  mind  would  be  destitute  of  the  power  of  re-cogni- 
tion—  re-knowing.  Or  we  can  conceive  of  a  mind  with 

234 


RETENTION. 


235 


the  power  to  reproduce  and  re-know  its  past  experiences, 
but  without  the  power  to  locate  them  - —  a  mind  to  which 
"yesterday,"  "last  week,"  "last  month,"  "last  year," 
would  mean  the  same  thing  —  the  past,  —  a  mind  all  of 
whose  recollections  were  like  those  we  have  sometimes 
been  conscious  of  when  we  have  seen  a  face  that  we  were 
sure  we  had  seen  before,  but  with  no  idea  of  where  or 
when.  Such  a  mind  would  be  without  the  power  of 
localization^ 

These  four  powers,  then  —  retention,  reproduction, 
recognition,  and  localization  —  constitute  the  power  that 
we  call  memory..  You  would  not,  indeed,  say  that  you 
do  not  remember  a  thing  when  you  are  not  thinking  about 
it.  But  you  would  say  that  a  mind  that  did  not  possess 
all  four  of  these  powers  can  not  remember  as  we  can,  and 
that  one  without  the  last  two  can  not  remember  at  all. 
A  complete  explanation  of  memory,  then,  would  require 
a  complete  explanation  of  these  four  powers. 

Retention.  —  In  thinking  about  retention,  we  must  be 
on  our  guard  against  being  led  into  mistakes  by  the  literal 
meaning  of  the  word.  The  act  of  retaining  seems  to  imply 
a  place  where  things  are  retained,  and  so  we  sometimes 
permit  ourselves  to  think  of  memory  as  a  great  storehouse, 
where  all  the  lumber  of  our  past  experience  is  accumulated. 
This  was  the  opinion  of  Herbart.  Says  the  Herbartian, 
Lindner:  "That  concepts  are  not  destroyed  by  passing 
out  of  consciousness  is  proved  by  the  fact  of  reproduction." 
And  Leibniz :  "  No  idea  leaves  the  mind,  but  each  idea 
becomes  invisible  for  a  time  or  permanently.  To  remem- 
ber is  to  have  new  consciousness  of  what  has  not  ceased 

1  See  Baldwin's  Psychology,  p.  151* 


236  MEMORY. 

to  exist  in  the  soul."  But  when  we  begin  to  think  seri- 
ously, it  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  "storehouse"  of 
memory  is  more  than  a  metaphor.  I  had  the  toothache 
yesterday ;  to-day  I  recall  the  fact.  I  have  an  image  of  it. 
But  the  image  or  idea  of  the  toothache  is  not  the  original 
fact.  The  toothache  was  intensely  painful ;  the  image  of 
it  is  not  at  all  so.  If  you  ask  where  the  image  was  from 
the  time  it  dropped  out  of  consciousness  until  the  time  we 
thought  of  it  to-day,  the  proper  answer  is,  as  Baldwin 
says,  Nowhere.  When  I  had  the  toothache,  I  was  con- 
scious of  a  sensation.  When  I  ceased  to  have  it,  the 
sensation  ceased.  When  the  idea  of  it  is  recalled  to  my 
mind,  I  remember  it.  Between  the  disappearance  of  the 
sensation  and  the  rise  of  the  image  my  mind  was  inactive 
with  reference  to  it ;  there  was  neither  sensation  nor  image 
of  it  in  existence.  So  far  as  consciousness  is  concerned, 
then,  retention  does  not  denote  an  act,  but  states  a  fact  — 
the  fact  that  experiences  of  the  past  leave  the  mind  differ- 
ent, since  it  often  happens  that  we  can  recall  them. 

Retention  a  Physical  Fact.  —  The  probability  is  that 
retention  is,  in  part  at  least,  a  purely  physical  fact.  The 
facts  already  cited  in  an  earlier  chapter  —  of  impairment 
of  memory  in  consequence  of  an  injury  to  the  brain  — 
indicate  this.  Ribot  states  the  argument  very  forcibly : 
"If,  with  closed  eyes,  we  keep  for  a  length  of  time  an 
image  of  very  lively  colors  before  the  imagination,  and 
then  opening  the  eyes  suddenly,  we  fix  them  upon  a  white 
surface,  we  see  thereon  for  an  instant  the  image  contem- 
plated in  imagination,  but  in  the  complementary  color. 
This  fact,  as  is  observed  by  Wundt,  from  whom  we  borrow 
it,  proves  that  the  nerve  action  is  the  same  in  the  two 


LAWS   OF   ASSOCIATION.  237 

cases  —  in  the  sense  perception  and  in  the  memory." 
Professor  Ladd  also  puts  the  case  clearly :  "  That  the 
mental  phenomena  which  lead  us  to  speak  of  the  retentive 
power  of  memory  have  a  physical  basis,  there  can  be  no 
doubt.  .  .  .  Every  sensory  impulse  must  produce  changes 
both  in  the  end  organs  and  the  central  organs;  and 
although  these  changes  vanish,  so  far  as  their  effect  in  the 
corresponding  phenomena  of  conscious  mind  is  concerned, 
they  nevertheless  can  not  fail  to  leave  the  organs  in  dif- 
ferent condition  from  that  in  which  they  were  found."  1 
Fouillee  makes  a  concise  and  graphic  statement  of  some 
of  the  facts  that  support  this  opinion  :  "  It  is  evident  that 
there  is  in  memory  something  automatic,  capable  of  func- 
tioning alone ;  even  the  diseases  and  illusions  to  which  it  is 
subject  prove  that  there  is  something  delicate  and  fragile 
in  this  marvel  of  natural  mechanism.  If  a  scholar,  after 
having  received  a  violent  blow  on  the  head,  forgets  all  his 
knowledge  of  Greek  without  forgetting  anything  else,  and 
if  afterwards,  as  the  result  of  a  second  blow,  he  suddenly 
regains  his  lost  Greek,  it  is  difficult  to  see  in  memory  an 
act  entirely  spiritual." 

Reproduction  and  Laws  of  Association.  —  The  laws 
in  accordance  with  which  ideas  and  images  of  our  past 
experiences  arise  in  our  minds  have  already  been  con- 
sidered. They  are,  as  we  know,  the  laws  of  association. 
We  say  that  any  thought,  idea,  or  experience  tends  to 
recall  similar  thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiences,  and  all  other 
thoughts  or  experiences  that  were  in  the  mind  at  the  same 
time. 

A  consideration  of  this  law  will  enable  us  to  see  how  it 

1  Ladd's  Physiological  Psychology,  p.  548. 


238  MEMORY. 

happens  that  we  are  sometimes  conscious  of  re-knowing 
things  without  being  able  to  recall  the  place  where,  or  the 
time  when,  the  thing  was  originally  known,  or  any  of  the 
circumstances  connected  with  it.  It  is  because  the  thing 
recalls  the  past  experience  simply  by  the  law  of  association 
by  similarity.  Usually,  as  we  know,  along  with  the  similar 
idea  are  recalled  other  ideas  or  thoughts  that  were  in  the 
mind  at  the  same  time ;  and  it  is  these  other  thoughts  or 
ideas  that  enable  us  to  localize  our  recollections.  You  saw 
a  stranger  yesterday  in  the  post-office.  To-day  you  see 
him  again,  and  as  soon  as  you  see  him  you  are  conscious 
of  that  feeling  of  recognition  —  you  know  that  you  have 
seen  him  before.  How  do  you  know  it  ?  Because  of  the 
likeness  between  your  percept  of  him  and  the  image  that 
arises  in  the  mind.  But  suppose  the  image  comes  entirely 
unattended  —  suppose  it  comes  without  any  of  the  other 
ideas  that  were  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time  —  then  you 
will  have  the  feeling  that  you  are  re-knowing  the  person, 
but  where  or  when  you  originally  knew  him  you  will  be 
utterly  unable  to  tell.  You  will  not  know  where,  for  by 
supposition  the  image  of  the  post-office  does  not  come  into 
your  mind  with  the  image  of  the  person  you  saw  there. 
You  will  not  know  when,  for  none  of  the  images  or 
thoughts  that  fix  the  time  come  with  the  image  —  no 
thought  of  yesterday,  no  thought  of  what  you  were  or  had 
been  doing.  As  we  can  not  locate  the  place  of  a  thing 
except  in  relation  to  other  places  —  London  in  relation  to 
England,  England  to  Europe,  Europe  to  the  earth,  the 
earth  to  the  solar  system,  the  solar  system  to  the  universe, 
the  universe  to  what  ?  —  so  we  can  not  locate  the  time  of 
an  event  except  with  reference  to  the  time  of  other  events, 
succeeding,  preceding,  or  contemporaneous.  (What  does 


PRESENT   IMAGES   AS   PAST   EXPERIENCES.       239 

1891  mean?)  When,  therefore,  an  image  of  a  past  ex- 
perience arises  in  our  minds,  unattended  by  any  of  its 
former  companions,  we  can  only  feel  that  we  re-know  it, 
without  being  able  to  tell  where  or  when. 

How  we  Know  that  Present  Images  are  Copies  of 
Past  Experiences.  —  This  explanation  of  the  fact  would 
seem  to  make  the  explanation  of  our  ordinary  experiences 
in  memory  very  simple.  Usually  when  we  see  a  thing  a 
second  time  that  we  remember  to  have  seen  before,  we 
remember  when  and  where  we  saw  it.  The  reason  is,  as 
we  now  see,  that  the  image  of  the  past  fact  is  attended  by 
some  of  the  ideas  that  were  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time, 
so  that  its  place  and  time  are  fixed.  But  how  do  we  know 
that  images  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  the  present  are 
copies  of  experiences  that  we  had  an  hour  ago,  or  rather 
what  makes  us  believe  it?  You  sit  down  and  begin  to 
indulge  in  the  pleasure  of  retrospection.  You  think  of 
what  happened  an  hour  ago,  yesterday,  last  year,  ten  years 
ago  —  when  you  were  a  child,  first  finding  yourself  in  this 
strange  world.  But  your  base  of  operations  is  always  the 
present.  How  is  it  that  ideas  now  in  the  mind  are  retro- 
jected,  some  of  them  an  hour  back,  others  a  day,  others  a 
year,  others  a  decade,  others  for  a  period  not  to  be  men- 
tioned in  such  a  public  place  ?  Precisely  as  in  perception, 
we  refer  some  of  the  sensations  of  color  to  objects  ten  feet 
away,  others  to  objects  a  mile  —  ten  miles  —  away,  while 
all  of  them  are  in  our  own  minds,  so  in  memory  we  retro- 
ject  ideas,  all  of  which  are  experiences  of  the  present, 
some  of  them  an  hour,  others  a  day,  others  a  week,  others 
a  score  of  years  into  our  past  lives.  As  Mr.  Ward  puts  it, 
"We  may,  if  we  represent  succession  as  a  line,  represent 


240  MEMORY. 

simultaneity  as  a  second  line  at  right  angles  to  the  first." 
As  our  experiences  actually  occur  to  us,  they  are  in  suc- 
cession, the  memory  images  of  them  at  any  one  time  are 
in  the  mind  simultaneously.  How  are  we  able  to  retroject 
present  memory  images  into  that  place  in  the  past  occu- 
pied by  the  experiences  of  which  they  are  the  copies  ? 

Temporal  Signs.  —  It  is  the  case  of  the  Irishman's 
brogue  over  again.  As  we  know  the  nationality  of  an 
Irishman  by  the  way  he  speaks ;  as  we  refer  our  sensa- 
tions to  a  certain  place  by  their  local  signs ;  so  we  locate 
images  of  past  experiences  at  a  certain  point  in  our  past 
lives  by  their  temporal  signs.  As  the  local  signs  are  certain 
characteristics  that  all  sensations,  however  different,  which 
arise  from  the  stimulation  of  the  same  part  of  the  body 
have  in  common,  so  the  temporal  signs  are  certain  common 
characteristics  possessed  by  all  ideas  that  we  refer  to  some 
general  point  of  time,  however  different  those  ideas  may 
be.  In  other  words,  all  the  events  of  Christmas  Day, 
1888,  that  I  am  able  to  recall  and  localize  at  that  point  in 
the  past  are  represented  in  my  mind  by  ideas  or  images 
that  have  certain  common  characteristics.  These  common 
characteristics  —  this  brogue  that  enables  me  to  refer  my 
recollections  to  their  proper  time  in  the  past  —  are  called 
temporal  signs. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Define  retention,  reproduction,  recognition,   and  localization, 
and  show  that  they  are  essential  to  a  complete  act  of  memory. 

2.  Summarize  the  results  reached  in  the  chapter  on  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas. 


QUESTIONS.  241 

3.  How  is  it  that  we  sometimes  know  that  we  have  seen  a  thing 
without  being  able  to  tell  where  or  when  ? 

4.  What  was  the  Illustration  of  the  Irishman's  brogue  used  to 
show  in  one  of  the  chapters  on  perception  ? 

5.  What  is  the  difference  between  local  and  temporal  signs? 

6.  How  is  it  that  the  mind  is  able  to  regard  its  local  signs  as 
signs  of  place  ? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  percept  and  an  image  ? 

8.  Show  that  we  are  able  to  locate  a  thing  either  in  time  or  place 
only  by  its  relation  to  other  things. 


SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Do  you  know  any  facts   indicating   that   retention   is   made 
possible  through  a  modification  of  the  brain  that  results  from  each 
of  the  experiences  of  the  mind  ? 

2.  If  that  is  the  explanation  of  retention,  how  would  you  explain 
reproduction  ? 

3.  On  the  supposition  that  the  mind  has  temporal  signs,  how  would 
you  explain  its  power  to  interpret  them  as  signs  of  time  ? 

4.  At  about  what  age  do  children  begin  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  yesterday ,  last  week,  etc.  ? 

5.  Why  is  it  that  this  knowledge  comes  so  late  ? 

6.  Are  you  sure  that  such  a  thing  as  absolute  forgetfulness  ever 
takes  place  ? 


LESSON    XXVI. 

THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE   MEMORY. 

Rules  for  Remembering.  —  Bearing  in  mind  our  con- 
clusion that  the  basis  of  memory  is  in  part  physical,  it  is 
but  a  step  to  the  further  conclusion  that  whatever  is 
learned  in  a  state  of  excellent  bodily  health,  other  things 
being  equal,  is  most  likely  to  be  remembered.  Facts  of 
every-day  experience  confirm  this  view.  We  all  know  how 
likely  we  are  to  forget  things  that  we  learn  when  we  are 
suffering  from  a  headache,  indigestion,  or  the  like. 

Health  and  Memory.  —  Says  a  popular  writer,  Mr. 
Halleck  :  "  The  first  rule  for  securing  a  better  memory  is 
to  pay  attention  to  the  laws  of  hygiene,  to  endeavor  by  all 
means  to  keep  the  health  at  high-water  mark." 

Attention  and  Memory.  —  Another  rule,  equally  con- 
firmed by  daily  observation,  is :  Attend  carefully  and 
closely  to  the  facts  you  wish  to  remember.  We  have  seen 
in  a  previous  chapter  how  much  memory  depends  on  atten- 
tion, and  we  know  how  much  it  depends  on  interest.  But 
interest  in  a  subject  increases  the  power  to  remember  it 
chiefly  through  the  influence  of  interest  on  attention. 
Many  of  us  find  it  hard  to  remember  faces.  This  difficulty 

242 


DRAWING   AND    MEMORY   OF  FORM.  243 

would  be  lessened  if  we  carefully  noted  the  faces  of  people 
we  wish  to  remember. 

Drawing  and  Memory  of  Form.  —  Every  teacher 
knows  how  the  drawing  of  objects  tends  to  fix  their  form 
in  the  mind.  The  reason  is  that  in  drawing  objects  we 
must  attend  to  them.  Sir  Francis  Galton  says  that  M. 
Boisbaudran  trained  the  visual  memory  of  his  pupils  with 
extraordinary  success.  His  method  was  to  have  his  pupils 
study  "the  models  thoroughly  before  they  tried  to  draw 
them  from  memory.  One  favorite  expedient  was  to  asso- 
ciate the  sight  memory  with  the  muscular  memory  by 
making  his  pupils  follow  at  a  distance  the  outlines  of  the 
figures  with  a  pencil  held  in  their  hands.  After  three  or 
four  months'  practice,  their  visual  memory  became  greatly 
strengthened.  They  had  no  difficulty  in  summoning  images 
at  will,  in  holding  them  steady,  and  in  drawing  them." 

Understanding  and  Memory.  —  A  third  rule  for  facili- 
tating the  acquisition  of  memory  is :  Get  a  clear  compre- 
hension of  the  thing  you  wish  to  remember.  The  famous 
experiments  of  Elbringhaus  illustrate  this  in  a  striking 
way.  He  found  that  h£  could  memorize  a  stanza  of  poetry 
in  about  one  tenth  of  the  time  required  to  memorize  the 
same  amount  of  nonsense  syllables.  I  asked  a  capable 
student  of  Johns  Hopkins  University  some  years  ago  to 
give  me  an  account  of  a  lecture  he  had  just  listened  to. 
"  I  can  not  do  it,"  was  his  reply.  "  It  was  not  logical." 

Association  and  Memory.  —  The  last  example  belongs, 
perhaps,  with  more  propriety  under  the  fourth  and  most 
important  rule  :  Multiply  associations,  entangle  the  fact  you 


244  CULTIVATION    OF  THE    MEMORY. 

wish  to  remember  in  a  net  of  as  many  associations  as  pos- 
sible, especially  those  that  are  logical. 

In  studying  the  association  of  ideas,  we  saw  that 
mechanical  association  is  that  kind  of  association  in  con- 
sequence of  which  anything  we  are  thinking  of  tends  to 
make  us  think  of  something  else  we  thought  of  at  or  about 
the  same  time ;  logical  or  rational  association,  that  which 
tends  to  make  us  think  of  something  between  which  and 
the  thing  we  are  thinking  of  the  mind  has  perceived  inner 
relations. 

Educational  Value  of  Mechanical  Association.  —  We 
only  need  to  call  to  mind  instances  of  the  former  to  realize 
its  comparative  educational  value.  Consider,  for  example, 
the  following :  "  Thou  didst  swear  to  me,  upon  a  parcel- 
gilt  goblet,  sitting  in  my  dolphin  chamber,  at  the  round 
table,  by  a  sea-coal  fire,  upon  Wednesday  in  Whitsun  week, 
when  the  prince  broke  tky  head  for  liking  his  father  to  a 
singing  man  of  Windsor ;  thou  didst  swear  to  me  then,  as 
I  was  washing  thy  wound,  to  marry  me,  and  make  me  my 
lady  thy  wife." — Henry  IV.  This,  of  course,  is  an  ex- 
ample of  mechanical  association,  and  it  enables  us  to 
realize  that,  so  far  as  our  thoughts  are  controlled  by  that 
kind  of  association,  they  will  be  directed  by  chance  and 
accident  rather  than  intelligence. 

When  your  pupils  associate  things  logically,  they  are 
exercising  and  therefore  developing  the  higher  powers  of 
their  minds. 

Of  Logical  Association.  —  Logical  or  rational  associa- 
tion is  association  according  to  some  inner  relation.  But 
before  this  relation  can  form  the  basis  of  an  association  it 


LOGICAL  ASSOCIATION.  245 

must  be  apprehended,  and  this  act  of  apprehension  is  an 
exercise  of  the  higher  powers  of  the  mind.  Fitch  says  that 
the  difference  between  a  wise  man  and  one  who  is  not  wise 
consists  less  in  the  things  he  knows  than  in  the  way  he 
knows  them.  The  wise  man  knows  things  in  their  rela- 
tions, I  think  he  would  say,  has  his  knowledge  classified, 
has  associated  what  he  knows  rationally.  In  the  same 
paragraph  he  observes  that  an  historical  fact  is  learned  to 
little  purpose  unless  it  is  seen  in  its  bearing  on  some 
political,  economical,  or  moral  law.  I  am  sure  you  agree 
with  him.  We  all  know  that  a  teacher  may  know  facts 
enough  about  history  to  pass  an  ordinary  examination  very 
creditably,  and  yet  know  them  to  very  little  purpose 
because  he  knows  them  in  a  purely  mechanical  way. 

Logical  Association  Increases  the  Interest.  —  An- 
other reason  for  helping  our  pupils  cultivate  their  logi- 
cal memory  is  that  they  are  more  interested  in  what 
they  have  associated  logically.  To  learn  facts  by  means 
of  the  mechanical  memory  is  an  irksome  task ;  to  ap- 
prehend the  relations  between  those  facts,  to  associate 
them  logically  is  a  delightful  labor,  especially  if  the 
pupil  has  been  led  to  discern  for  himself  the  rela- 
tions which  form  the  basis  of  the  association.  Now 
interest,  as  we  know,  is  a  great  help  to  the  memory.  But 
apart  from  that  it  is  quite  as  important  for  you  to  interest 
your  pupils  for  other  reasons.  If  we  interest  our  pupils, 
we  do  what  we  can  to  make  them  students  for  life,  and 
that  is  a  much  more  important  matter  than  having  them 
learn  well  any  particular  subject.  Indeed,  I  think  you  will 
admit  that  if  we  had  to  choose  between  having  our  pupils 
careless  and  indifferent  to  study  at  school,  and  having 


246  CULTIVATION    OF  THE    MEMORY. 

them  studious  through  life,  it  would  be  entirely  wise  for 
us  to  choose  the  latter. 

Makes  Knowledge  Usable.  —  Another  reason  for  cul- 
tivating the  logical  memory  is  that  any  one  with  that  kind 
of  memory  can  use  what  he  knows.  Some  one  has  said 
that  a  man  could  not  stand  under  a  tree  with  Edmund 
Burke  during  a  shower  of  rain  without  perceiving  that  he 
was  in  the  company  of  a  very  remarkable  man.  The 
reason  doubtless  was,  not  that  Burke  was  continually  say- 
ing brilliant  or  witty  things,  but  that  he  said  nothing  that 
was  not  to  the  point.  A  man  may  know  a  great  deal 
mechanically,  and  yet  be  unable  to  use  his  knowledge, 
because  he  can  not  think  of  anything  when  he  wants  it, 
and  can  not  see  how  he  can  use  it  when  he  does  think  of 
it.  Such  a  person's  mind  is  like  a  well-filled  scrap  bag ; 
there  is  a  good  deal  in  it,  but  everything  is  in  such  dis- 
order that  you  have  to  turn  it  upside  down  before  you  can 
get  any  particular  thing  out  of  it. 

You  have  doubtless  heard  the  saying,  "  Great  memory, 
little  wit."  I  think  we  can  now  see  what  truth  there  is 
in  it.  It  is  altogether  possible  for  a  person  to  have  a  great 
mechanical  memory  and  have  very  little  mind  besides. 
Indeed,  there  are  plenty  of  cases  on  record  in  which  idiots 
have  shown  remarkable  power  of  remembering  facts  me- 
chanically. But  to  have  a  fine  logical  memory  and  a  poor 
mind  is  an  impossibility. 

Mechanical  Memory  of  Many  Educated  Persons.  - 
Educated  persons  often  complain  that  their  memory  is  not 
so  good  as  it  was  in  their  youth.     What  they  mean  is  that 
their   mechanical  memory  is  not    so  good.      They  have 


PLACE    FOR  THE    MECHANICAL  MEMORY.         247 

acquired  the  very  excellent  habit  of  fixing  their  attention 
on  important  matters  and  neglecting  the  trivial  events 
that  are  not  worth  remembering  ;  and  because  they  forget 
them,  while  their  uneducated  friends  remember  them, 
they  imagine  that  their  memory  suffers  by  comparison. 
But  it  is  not  so.  The  educated  man  cultivates  his  logical 
memory,  and  neglects,  for  the  most  part,  his  mechanical 
memory ;  while  the  uneducated  man  does  the  exact  opposite. 
It  is  natural,  therefore,  for  the  uneducated  to  have  better 
mechanical  memories  than  the  educated.  As  Dr.  Harris 
observes,  if  we  want  the  child's  memory  we  can  have  it. 
We  can  force  ourselves  to  ignore  the  difference  between 
the  important  and  the  unimportant,  and  attend  impartially 
to  everything  that  comes  before  us.  So  far  as  we  succeed 
in  doing  this,  we  shall  remember  important  and  unimpor- 
tant matters  with  equal  accuracy.  But  is  such  a  memory 
desirable  ?  No,  because  in  that  case  we  shall  remember 
important  matters  less  accurately  than  we  should  have 
done  otherwise. 

But  I  do  not  mean  to  convey  the  impression  that  every- 
thing can  be  learned  by  means  of  the  logical  memory. 
Logical  association  consists  in  connecting  facts  together 
by  means  of  some  inner  relation.  But  before  we  can  see 
the  relations  between  facts,  we  must  know  the  facts  them- 
selves. 

Place  for  the  Mechanical  Memory.  —  For  this  reason 
there  is  a  place  for  the  mechanical  memory  in  education. 
But  here  you  should  note  that  there  are  as  many  different 
memories,  so  to  speak,,  as  there  are  kinds  of  facts  to  be 
remembered.  There  is  a  memory  of  colors,  a  memory  of 
dates,  a  memory  of  rocks,  and  so  on.  You  know  very 


248  CULTIVATION    OF   THE    MEMORY. 

well  that  some  of  your  pupils  have  an  excellent  memory 
for  geography,  others  for  grammar,  others  for  history,  and 


so  on. 


No  such  Thing  as  the  Universal  Cultivation  of  the 
Memory.  —  Now,  since  memory  is  not  one  faculty,  but 
many,  it  follows  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  universal 
cultivation  of  the  memory.  If  you  find  your  memory  weak 
in  any  particular  direction,  what  you  ought  to  do  is  to 
practice  it  on  the  kind  of  things  you  find  most  difficulty  in 
remembering.  Dr.  Harris  gives  an  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive account  of  his  own  efforts  in  cultivating  his  mechanical 
memory.  When  he  was  about  eighteen,  he  tells  us,  he  had 
great  difficulty  in  remembering  dates.  He  cultivated  his 
memory  for  them  in  the  following  manner :  The  first  day 
he  learned  the  dates  of  accession  of  three  or  four  English 
kings;  the  next  day  he  learned  two  or  three  more,  and 
reviewed  those  he  learned  the  preceding  day;  the  next 
day,  again  reviewing  from  the  beginning,  he  added  two  or 
three  more  to  the  list,  and  so  on,  until  he  had  thoroughly 
learned  the  entire  list.  After  two  or  three  months  he 
found  he  had  forgotten  some  of  them,  so  he  learned  them 
again  ;  and  after  two  or  three  years  he  repeated  the  opera- 
tion. By  such  training,  he  tells  us,  his  memory  for  dates 
was  so  improved  that  he  has  never  since  had  any  trouble 
in  remembering  such  dates  as  he  cared  to  remember.  He 
cultivated  his  memory  for  names  in  a  similar  way. 

When  Verbal  Memorizing  is  Desirable.  —  It  follows 
that  verbal  memorizing,  although  mechanical  memorizing, 
is  not  necessarily  bad.  On  the  contrary,  under  certain 
circumstances  it  is  essential.  Fitch  has  stated  with  great 


USES    OF  THE    MECHANICAL   MEMORY.  249 

clearness  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is  valuable : 
"  When  the  object  is  to  have  thoughts,  facts,  reasonings 
reproduced,  seek  to  have  them  reproduced  in  the  pupil's 
own  words.  Do  not  set  the  faculty  of  mere  verbal  mem- 
ory to  work.  But  when  the  words  themselves  in  which  a 
fact  is  embodied  have  some  special  fitness  or  beauty  of 
their  own  —  when  they  represent  some  scientific  datum 
or  central  truth,  which  could  not  otherwise  be  so  well 
expressed  —  then  see  that  the  form  as  well  as  the  sub- 
stance of  the  expression  is  learned  by  heart."  Compayre, 
commenting  on  this,  says  that,  "according  to  this,  it  is 
easy  to  fix  the  limit  which  verbal  repetition  should  not 
pass.  In  grammar,  the  principal  rules  ;  in  arithmetic,  the 
definitions;  in  geometry,  the  theorems;  in  the  sciences 
in  general,  the  formulas ;  in  history,  a  few  summaries ;  in 
geography,  the  explanation  of  a  few  technical  terms;  in 
ethics,  a  few  maxims  —  these  are  the  things  which  the 
child  ought  to  know  word  for  word  —  on  the  condition,  of 
course,  that  he  perfectly  understands  the  meaning  of  what 
he  recites,  and  that  his  attention  is  called  not  less  to  the 
thought  than  to  the  form  of  the  expression."  To  this  I 
would  add  that  no  week  should  be  allowed  to  pass  by  in 
which  the  pupil  is  not  encouraged  to  learn,  word  for  word, 
some  beautiful  sentence  or  paragraph,  and  thus  store  his 
mind  with  beautiful  thoughts,  beautifully  expressed. 

Danger  of  Underrating  the  Uses  of  the  Mechanical 
Memory.  —  In  the  healthy  reaction  against  the  mechani- 
cal methods  in  vogue  half  a  century  ago,  we  are  in  danger 
of  undervaluing  the  mechanical  memory,  especially  in  con- 
nection with  literature.  We  are  apt  to  think  that  if  a 
pupil  has  a  thought  the  form  in  which  he  holds  it  is  a 


250  CULTIVATION    OF  THE    MEMORY. 

matter  of  no  consequence.  Says  Professor  Davidson  :  "We 
are  inclined  to  be  content  if  we  can  get  information  rapidly 
and  easily  into  the  heads  of  our  pupils,  and  trouble  our- 
selves very  little  about  the  manner  in  which  it  is  accom- 
plished. The  Greeks  were  wiser.  They  knew  that  the 
how  is  more  important  than  the  what ;  that  conceptions 
which  are  presented  to  the  mind  clothed  in  poetic  light 
and  heat  are  far  more  readily  assimilated  and  retained,  and 
exercise  a  far  deeper  and  more  lasting  influence  upon  the 
imagination,  the  feelings,  and  the  will,  than  those  which 
come  to  it  in  the  cold  gray  garb  of  ordinary  prose." 

Difficulty  of  Making  a  Practical  Application  of  the 
Pedagogical  Principles  in  Connection  with  Memory.  - 
And  now  I  have  said  substantially  what  I  intended  about 
mechanical  and  rational  association,  and  mechanical  and 
rational  memory.  I  believe  we  shall  agree  that,  of  all  the 
subjects  within  the  whole  range  of  Psychology,  there  is 
scarcely  one  of  more  practical  importance.  We  are  con- 
stantly making  use  of  the  memory  of  our  pupils.  How  we 
make  use  of  it  is  the  question,  the  answer  to  which  largely 
determines  the  quality  of  our  work.  But  however  clearly 
we  understand  the  difference  between  logical  and  mechani- 
cal memory,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  each  ought 
to  be  cultivated,  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  difficulty  in 
putting  our  ideas  into  practice.  Why  ?  Because  we  can 
not  help  our  pupils  associate  facts  logically  until  they  are 
so  associated  in  our  own  minds.  Pestalozzi  thought  that 
it  was  possible  to  mechanize  instruction  so  perfectly  that 
any  teacher  who  had  mastered  the  mechanism  could  suc- 
ceed. He  was  profoundly  mistaken,  not  merely  because 
a  mechanism  will  not  run  itself  —  because  a  method,  how- 


ARITHMETIC   AND    HISTORY.  251 

ever  excellent,  needs  various  adaptations  to  various  cases 

-but  because  good    teaching  is  impossible  without  an 

ample  and  rational  knowledge  of  the  subject  of  instruction. 

Illustrated  by  Arithmetic  and  History.  —  As  long  as 
the  addition,  subtraction,  multiplication,  and  division  of 
whole  numbers  seem  to  be  entirely  disconnected  opera- 
tions, and  each  of  these  entirely  disconnected  from  the 
addition,  subtraction,  multiplication,  and  division  of  com- 
mon fractions,  and  these  from  the  same  operations  in  deci- 
mal fractions,  we  can  not  enable  our  pupils  to  associate  the 
facts  of  arithmetic  rationally,  because  they  are  not  so  asso- 
ciated in  our  own  mind.  In  like  manner,  as  long  as  we 
see  no  connection  between  the  very  different  kinds  of 
people  who  settled  at  Plymouth  and  Jamestown,  and  the 
differences  between  the  people  of  Massachusetts  and  the 
people  of  Virginia  at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War  ; 
as  long  as  we  see  no  connection  between  these  differences 
and  their  reluctance  to  unite  together  under  a  single  strong 
government ;  as  long  as  we  do  not  see  how  this  reluctance 
could  only  be  overcome  by  compromises  in  the  Constitu- 
tion which  were  in  the  nature  of  contradictions,  which 
contradictions,  under  the  influence  of  slavery,  led  to  other 
contradictions  —  each  party  affirming  its  own  view  with 
passionate  intensity  —  and  these  to  the  Civil  War  —  until 
we  see  these  things  as  clearly  as  the  sun  in  the  noonday 
heavens,  American  history  is  a  sealed  book  to  us,  and  it 
will  be  a  sealed  book  to  our  pupils  so  far  as  help  from  us 
is  concerned,  because  the  facts  are  associated  in  our  own 
minds  in  a  merely  mechanical  way.  In  like  manner,  until 
we  realize  in  detail  to  what  extent  the  character,  history, 
and  institutions  of  a  people  are  a  matter  of  latitude,  and 


252  CULTIVATION   OF   THE    MEMORY. 

longitude,  and  soil,  and  climate ;  until  we  see  that  the 
explanation  of  the  building  of  a  Chicago  in  fifty  years  is 
to  be  found  in  the  facts  of  physical  geography ;  until  we 
see  that,  if  the  soil  and  climate  and  other  physical  condi- 
tions of  the  North  and  South  had  been  reversed,  the  parts 
they  played  in  the  Civil  War  would  have  been  reversed  — 
we  can  not  teach  geography  properly,  because  we  do  not 
know  geography  in  a  rational  or  logical  way. 

In  a  word,  to  make  a  practical  use  of  this  distinction 
between  logical  and  mechanical  memory,  it  is  not  enough 
to  understand  it.  We  must  know  the  subjects  we  under- 
take to  teach  in  a  logical  or  rational  way,  and  the  latter  is 
as  indispensable  as  the  former. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  lessons  on  the  asso- 
ciations of  ideas  and  memory. 

2.  Analyze  the  quotation  from  Henry  IV.  in  order  to  show  that 
it  was  the  result  of  mechanical  association. 

3.  State  the  various  rules  for  cultivating  the  memory. 

4.  State  the  various  reasons  for  cultivating  the  logical  memory. 

5.  What  does  Fitch  say  is  the  difference  between  a  wise  man  and 
one  who  is  not  wise  ? 

6.  How  many  memories  has  the  mind?  i. 

7.  How  did  Dr.  Harris  cultivate  his  memory  for  dates  ? 

8.  Under  what  circumstances  is  verbal  memorizing  desirable  ? 

9.  What  did  Pestalozzi  think  about  mechanizing  instruction,  and 
why  was  he  mistaken  ? 

10.    Illustrate  the  necessity  of  a  rational  knowledge  of  a  subject  in 
order  to  teach  it  well. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

i .  What  light  does  this  lesson  throw  on  the  kind  of  preparation  a 
teacher  should  make  ? 


QUESTIONS.  253 

2.  'Make  a  study  of  the  children  you  meet  to  ascertain  (i)  the  things 
they  remember  and  why,  and  (2)  the  kind  of  memory  they  exercise 
most. 

3.  Which  kind  of  memory  should  be  chiefly  exercised  in  the  case 
of  young  pupils,  and  why  ? 

4.  "  Betty,"  said  a  farmer's  wife  to  her  servant,  "you  must  go  to 
town  for  some  things.    You  have  such  a  bad  memory  that  you  always 
forget  something,  but  see  if  you  can  remember  them  all  this  time." 
"  I'm  very  sorry,  ma'am,"  says  Betty,  "  that  I've  such  a  bad  memory, 
but  it's  not  my  fault ;  I  wish  I  had  a  better  one."  "  Now  mind,"  said 
her  mistress,  "listen  carefully  to  what  I  tell  you.    I  want  suet  and 
currants  for  the  pudding."    "Yes,  ma'am,  suet  and  currants."    "Then 
I  want  leeks  and  barley  for  the  broth ;  don't  forget  them."    "  No, 
ma'am,  leeks  and  barley ;  I  sha'n't  forget."    "  Then  I  want  a  shoulder 
of  mutton,  a  pound  of  tea,  a  pound  of  coffee,  and  six  pounds  of  sugar. 
And  as  you  go  by  the  dressmaker's,  tell  her  she  must  bring  out  calico 
for  the  lining,  some  black  thread,  and  a  piece  of  narrow  tape."    "Yes, 
ma'am,"  says  Betty,  preparing  to  depart.      "Oh,  at  the  grocer's  get 
a  jar  of  black  currant  jam,"  adds  the  mistress.    The  farmer,  who  has 
been  quietly  listening  to  this  conversation,  calls  Betty  back  when  she 
has  started,  and  asks  her  what  she  is  going  to  do  in  town.     "  Well, 
sir,  I'm  going  to  get  tea,  sugar,  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  coffee,  coffee  — 
let  me  see,  there's  something  else."    "  That  won't  do,"  said  the  farmer ; 
"you  must  arrange  the  things  as  the  parson  does  his  sermon,  under 
different  heads,  or  you  won't  remember  them.     Now,  you  have  three 
things  to  think  of  —  breakfast,  dinner,  and  dressmaker."     "Yes,  sir." 
"  What  are  you  going  to  get  for  breakfast  ? "      "  Tea  and  coffee  and 
sugar  and  jam,"  says  Betty.     "Where  do  you  get  these  things?" 
"At  the  grocer's."      "Very  well.      Now  what  will  be  the  things  put 
on  the  table  at  dinner?"      "There'll  be  broth,  meat,  and  pudding." 
"  Now  what  have  you  to  get  for  each  of  these  ?  "     "  For  the  broth  I 
have  to  get  leeks  and  barley,  for  the  meat  I  have  to  get  a  shoulder  of 
mutton,  and  for  the  pudding  I  must  get  suet  and  currants."      "  Very 
good.     Where  will  you  get  these  things ? "     "I  must  get  the  leeks  at 
the  gardener's,  the  mutton  and  suet  at  the  butcher's,  and  the  barley 
and  currants  at  the  grocer's."      "  But  you  had  something  else  to  get 
at  the  grocer's."      "Yes,  sir,  the  things  for  breakfast  —  tea,  coffee, 
sugar,  and  jam."      "  Very  well.      Then  at  the  grocer's  you  have  four 


254  CULTIVATION    OF   THE    MEMORY. 

things  to  get  for  breakfast  and  two  for  dinner.  When  you  go  to  the 
grocer's,  think  of  one  part  of  his  counter  as  your  breakfast  table  and 
another  part  as  your  dinner  table,  and  go  over  the  things  wanted  for 
breakfast  and  the  things  wanted  for  dinner.  Then  you  will  remember 
the  four  things  for  breakfast  and  the  two  for  dinner.  Then  you  will 
have  two  other  places  to  go  for  the  dinner.  What  are  they  ? "  "  The 
gardener's  for  leeks,  and  the  butcher's  for  meat  and  suet."  "  Very 
well.  That  is  three  of  the  places.  What  is  the  fourth?"  "The 
dressmaker's  to  tell  her  to  bring  out  calico,  and  thread,  and  tape  for 
the  dress."  "  Now,"  said  her  master,  "  I  think  you  can  tell  me  every- 
thing you  are  going  for."  "Yes,"  said  Betty;  "I'm  going  to  the 
grocer's,  the  butcher's,  and  the  gardener's.  At  the  grocer's  I  'm  going 
to  get  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  and  jam  for  breakfast,  and  barley  and  cur- 
rants for  dinner.  But  then  I  shall  not  have  all  the  things  for  dinner, 
so  I  must  go  to  the  butcher's  for  a  shoulder  of  mutton  and  suet,  and 
for  leeks  to  the  gardener's.  Then  I  must  call  at  the  dressmaker's  to 
tell  her  to  bring  lining,  tape,  and  thread  for  the  dress."  Off  goes  Betty 
and  does  everything  she  has  to  do.  "  Never  tell  us  again,"  said  her 
master,  "  that  you  can't  help  having  a  bad  memory."  —  Tate's  Philos- 
ophy of  Education.  What  does  this  illustrate? 


LESSON    XXVII. 

IMAGINATION. 

Definition  of  Imagination.  —  If  you  ever  watched  the 
growth  of  the  mind  of  a  child,  you  doubtless  noticed  that 
he  seemed  to  remember  persons  before  he  showed  any 
signs  of  thinking  of  them  when  they  are  absent.  A  child 
shows  in  the  most  unmistakable  ways  that  he  remembers 
his  father  and  mother  some  time  before  he  gives  any  evi- 
dence of  thinking  of  them  when  they  are  away.  The  power 
of  the  mind  to  form  ideas  of  things  not  present  is  called 
imagination. 

What  is  an  Image  ?  —  We  may  call  imagination  the 
image-making  faculty,  if  we  give  a  broad  enough  meaning 
to  image.  We  can  think  not  only  of  absent  persons,  but 
of  tastes,  touches,  hopes,  fears,  etc.,  no  longer  experienced. 
If,  then,  we  define  imagination  as  the  image-making  faculty, 
we  must  remember  that  an  image  is  the  mental  represen- 
tation of  any  experience  whatever. 

Two  Kinds  of  Imagination.  —  There  are  two  kinds  of 
imagination.  When  a  child  cries  for  his  absent  mamma, 
the  act  of  imagination  evidently  consists  in  holding  before 
the  mind  a  copy,  more  or  less  faithful,  of  the  mother,  as 
seen  and  known.  But  the  same  child  will  soon  think  of 

255 


256  IMAGINATION. 

things  he  has  never  seen  —  of  things  that  have  never  come 
within  the  range  of  his  experience.  He  will  tell  you  of 
what  he  will  do  when  he  becomes  a  bird,  or  of  good  little 
girls  putting  a  cat's  eyes  in  after  a  bad  dog  has  scratched 
them  out  —  and  much  besides  of  the  same  sort.  The  first 
kind  of  imagination  is  called  reminiscent  or  reproductive, 
since  it  reproduces  past  experiences ;  the  second  is  called 
constructive,  since  it  takes  ideas  or  images  furnished  by 
the  reproductive  imagination  and  combines  them  into  new 
wholes. 

Difference  between  Reproductive  Imagination  and 
Memory.  — "  But  what  is  the  difference,"  you  at  once 
ask,  "between  reproductive  imagination  and  memory? 
I  hear  a  song,  and  it  makes  me  think  of  the  friend  whom  I 
heard  sing  it  a  few  days  ago ;  an  image  of  my  friend  as 
singing  the  song  rises  before  my  mind.  This,  I  suppose, 
is  both  an  act  of  memory  and  reproductive  imagination; 
what  is  the  difference  between  the  two  ? " 

To  begin  with,  in  its  early  stages,  memory  exists  with- 
out imagination.  A  child  who  knows  his  mamma  when  he 
sees  her,  but  can  not  think  of  her  when  she  is  absent, 
illustrates  this. 

"  But  when  he  begins  to  think  of  his  absent  mamma,  as 
he  will  by  and  by,  what,  then,  is  the  difference  between 
memory  and  reproductive  imagination  ?  When  he  thinks 
about  her,  does  he  not  remember  her,  and  is  not  his 
thought  of  her  an  image,  and  therefore  the  product  of  the 
imagination?"  Yes;  but  there  is  a  difference  between 
simply  thinking  of  her,  or  rather  between  simply  having 
the  image  of  her  in  his  mind,  and  knowing  that  image 
as  the  image  of  one  he  has  seen.  The  difference  between 


REPRODUCTIVE   IMAGINATION.  257 

reproductive  imagination  and  constructive  imagination  is 
that  the  images  resulting  from  reproductive  imagination 
are  copies  of  past  experiences,  while  those  resulting  from 
constructive  imagination  are  not.  Now,  it  is  altogether 
possible  for  one  to  suppose  that  what  are  really  products 
of  reproductive  imagination  are  products  of  constructive 
imagination,  because  the  images  resulting  from  the  act  of 
reproductive  imagination  are  not  accompanied  by  a  recol- 
lection of  the  original  experiences. 

We  shall  see  the  relation  between  them  from  another 
point  of  view  if  we  remember  that  the  exercise  of  the 
reproductive  imagination  is  a  part,  of  which  the  memory  of 
an  absent  object  is  the  whole.  There  can  be  no  memory 
of  an  absent  object  unless  the  image  of  it  is  in  the  mind, 
and  that  image  is  the  product  of  the  reproductive  imagina- 
tion. But  having  the  image  of  an  absent  object,  and 
remembering  the  object,  are  not  the  same.  There  is  no 
complete  act  of  memory  of  an  absent  object  until  the  image 
in  the  mind  is  recognized  as  the  image  of  some  particular 
object  or  thing  already  experienced.  Moreover,  while  a 
complete  act  of  memory  of  an  absent  object  involves 
retention,  reproduction,  recognition,  and  localization,  the 
imagination  of  it  requires  but  two  —  retention  and  repro- 
duction. If  the  image  of  a  past  object  or  experience  comes 
unattended  by  any  of  the  images  that  formed  a  part  of  its 
original  escort,  it  can  not  be  localized  —  i.e.,  completely 
remembered  —  nevertheless  it  is  imagined.  Also,  it  may 
not  be  recognized  ;  even  then  it  is  imagined. 

We  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  a  single  faculty  of  memory ;  that  we  ought  to  speak  of 
the  memories  rather  than  of  the  memory  of  the  mind, 
since  we  have  as  many  memories  as  there  are  classes  of 


258  IMAGINATION. 

facts  to  be  remembered.  The  same  is  true  of  the  imagina- 
tion. Mr.  Gallon  has  done  more  perhaps  than  any  other 
man  to  impress  this  fact  upon  the  world.  He  sent  out  a 
long  series  of  questions,  the  first  group  of  which  related 
to  the  illumination,  definition,  and  coloring  of  the  mental 
image,  and  were  framed  as  follows : 

"  Before  addressing  yourself  to  any  of  the  Questions  on 

the  opposite  page,  think  of  some  definite  object  —  suppose 

it  is  your  breakfast-table  as  you  sat  down  to  it  this  morning 

—  and  consider  carefully  the  picture  that  rises  before  your 

mind's  eye. 

"  i .  Illumination.  —  ts  the  image  dim  or  fairly  clear  ? 
Is  its  brightness  comparable  to  that  of  the  actual  scene  ? 

"  2.  Definition.  —  Are  all  the  objects  pretty  well  defined 
at  the  same  time,  or  is  the  place  of  sharpest  definition  at 
any  one  moment  more  contracted  than  it  is  in  a  real  scene  ? 

"  3.  Coloring. — Are  the  colors  of  the  china,  of  the  toast, 
bread-crust,  mustard,  meat,  parsley,  or  whatever  may  have 
been  on  the  table,  quite  distinct  and  natural  ?  " 

The  answers  to  these  questions  revealed  the  interesting 
fact  that  the  clearness,  and  definiteness,  and  vividness  of 
the  images  in  men's  mind  vary  in  the  most  remarkable 
way  from  individual  to  individual. 

Influence  of  the  Will  upon  Imagination.  —  There  is 
not  a  moment  when  images  of  one  sort  or  another  are  not 
in  our  minds.  Sometimes  we  ourselves  determine  to  a 
considerable  extent  their  character.  As  Dr.  Reid  said, 
"We  seem  to  treat  the  thoughts  that  present  themselves 
to  the  fancy  "  -  imagination  —  "  in  crowds  as  a  great  man 
treats  the  courtiers  who  attend  at  his  levee.  They  are  all 
ambitious  of  his  attention.  He  goes  round  the  circle, 


CONSTRUCTIVE    IMAGINATION.  259 

bestowing  a  bow  upon  one,  a  smile  upon  another,  asks  a 
short  question  of  a  third,  while  a  fourth  is  honored  with 
a  particular  conference  ;  and  the  greater  part  have  no  par- 
ticular mark  of  attention,  but  go  as  they  came.  It  is  true 
he  can  give  no  mark  of  his  attention  to  those  who  were 
not  there,  but  he  has  a  sufficient  number  for  making  a 
choice  and  a  distinction."  If  those  who  were  treated  so 
coolly  had  at  once  left,  while  those  upon  whom  the  great 
man  smiled  had  stayed  till  some  of  their  friends  and  rela- 
tives —  whom  they  themselves  summoned  because  of  their 
kind  treatment' — were  honored  at  their  expense,  the  case 
would  exactly  illustrate  the  influence  that  we  exert,  when- 
ever we  choose,  over  the  character  of  the  images  that 
throng  through  our  minds.  Those  that  we  do  not  attend 
to,  vanish ;  those  that  we  do  attend  to,  stay  until  we  neglect 
them  for  the  sake  of  those  that  come  into  our  minds  through 
their  connection  with  them. 

But  sometimes  the  will  abdicates,  and  lets  one's  thoughts 
take  their  own  course.  As  the  rider  of  a  trusty  horse 
might  throw  the  reins  on  his  neck,  and  let  him  wander  at 
will  across  fields,  through  woods,  over  meadows,  so  we 
sometimes  give  full  rein  to  our  thoughts,  and  let  them  take 
us  where  they  will.  If  we  break  in  upon  any  such  state 
for  the  purpose  of  making  a  study  of  it,  I  think  that  we 
shall  usually  find  that  the  images  in  our  minds  are  the 
products  of  constructive  imagination  —  sometimes  very 
grotesque  ones. 

Difference  between  Reproductive  and  Constructive 
Imagination.  —  To  learn  whether  any  particular  image, 
or  combination  of  images,  is  the  product  of  reproductive  or 
constructive  imagination,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  learn 


26O  IMAGINATION. 

whether  or  not  it  is  a  copy  of  a  past  experience.  Our 
memories,  of  course,  are  defective,  and  we  may  be  uncer- 
tain on  that  account ;  but,  apart  from  that,  we  need  be  in 
no  doubt  whatever. 

Applying  this  test,  it  is  evident  that  when  we  learn  any- 
thing from  a  book  or  from  a  friend  we  are  exercising  the 
constructive  imagination.  Reading  is  sometimes  defined 
as  thinking  along  prescribed  lines ;  and  if  we  carefully 
examine  our  own  minds,  we  shall  see  that  all  thinking  is 
done,  for  the  most  part,  through  images,  either  of  things 
or  words.  When,  then,  we  read,  we  form  and  combine 
images  in  a  certain  prescribed  way  —  in  the  way  prescribed 
by  the  language  of  the  author  —  provided  we  understand 
him.  When  we  listen  to  the  conversation  of  a  friend,  we 
evidently  do  the  same  thing.  Unless,  therefore,  our  friend 
or  book  says  precisely  what  we  ourselves  have  thought, 
and  in  precisely  the  same  way,  it  is  evident  that  we  grasp 
the  thoughts  by  means  of  the  constructive  imagination. 

When  we  find  out  a  thing  for  ourselves,  by  the  exercise 
of  our  own  powers  —  the  only  other  way  in  which  we  can 
learn  anything  —  I  think  we  shall  see  that  is  done  through 
constructive  imagination.  A  boy  has  a  problem  in  arith- 
metic to  solve.  What  is  the  first  thing  for  him  to  do  ? 
Understand  it,  as  we  say ;  and  this,  we  have  just  seen,  he 
can  only  do  through  constructive  imagination.  When  he 
clearly  grasps  the  conditions  stated  in  the  problem,  he 
asks  what  follows  from  them.  He  reasons  that  such  and 
such  a  result  would  follow  —  which  result  is  likewise 
imaged  constructively,  and  so  on  to  the  end.  Kepler 
wanted  to  know  the  shape  of  the  path  which  the  planets 
make  in  their  journeys  round  the  sun.  He  made  guess 
after  guess,  each  time  comparing  his  guess  with  the  facts, 


CONSTRUCTIVE    IMAGINATION.  261 

until  finally  he  was  successful.  This  again  was  accom- 
plished through  the  constructive  imagination,  was  it  not  ? 
Only  by  means  of  the  constructive  imagination  could  he 
form  any  sort  of  an  idea  of  any  particular  planet,  and  each 
guess  was  an  imaging  of  this  planet  pursuing  a  course  that 
he  had  never  seen  it  take.  A  child  of  one  or  two  or  three 
years  listens  daily  to  conversations  between  his  mamma 
and  papa.  Sometimes  consciously  —  always  consciously 
or  unconsciously  —  he  is  trying  to  understand  them.  How 
does  he  succeed  in  learning  the  meaning  of  so  many 
words  ?  Precisely,  for  the  most  part,  as  Kepler  discovered 
the  shape  of  the  planetary  orbits  —  by  making  a  successful 
hypothesis.  By  the  time  he  is  three  he  knows  how  to  use 
words  that  apply  to  purely  mental  processes — such  as  know, 
think,  believe,  understand.  He  thinks  of — forms  an  image 
of —  certain  mental  facts  which  he  remembers  in  connec- 
tion with  certain  words  —  brings  images  into  a  relation  in 
which  he  has  never  experienced  them,  until  he  gets  the  right 
pair  together  —  until  he  makes  a  successful  hypothesis. 
Sometimes  we  can  catch  him  in  the  very  act  of  construc- 
tively ascertaining  the  meaning  of  a  word.  When  a  child 
of  two  speaks  of  the  "  skin  of  a  book  "  through  an  act  of 
inductive  reasoning,  he  has  concluded  that  the  outside 
of  everything  is  its  skin  —  and  this  conclusion,  to  be  a 
conclusion  at  all,  must  be  imaged  in  part  in  his  mind. 

Evidently,  therefore,  the  constructive  imagination  is  not 
monopolized  by  poets  and  painters  and  novelists.  Who- 
ever reads,  whoever  listens  to  a  conversation  intelligently, 
whoever  thinks  —  imagines,  and  imagines  constructively. 
"  There  are  indeed  as  many  different  kinds  "  —  or  rather 
cases  —  "  of  imagination  as  there  are  kinds  of  intellectual 
activity." 


262  IMAGINATION. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE   TEXT. 

1 .  Define  imagination,  image,  percept. 

2.  What  does  a  complete  act  of  memory  involve  ? 

3.  State  and  illustrate  the  difference  between  imagination  and 
memory. 

4.  Illustrate  the  differences  in  the  imagination  of  different  people. 

5.  State  and  explain  the  quotation  from  Dr.  Reid. 

6.  What  is  active  imagination  ?    Passive? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  between  reproductive  and  constructive 
imagination  ? 

8.  How  do  we  read  a  book  intelligently,  or  understand  a  conver- 
sation ? 

9.  How  does  a  child  come  to  learn  the  meaning  of  words  ? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  makes  possible  the  difference  between  the  active  and 
passive  imagination  ? 

2.  Give  examples  of  cases  in  which  children  used  words  incor- 
rectly, although  reasoning  in  the  same  way  as  they  did  when  they 
used  other  words  correctly. 

3.  Compare  the  imagination  of  children  with  that  of  older  people, 
and  explain  the  difference. 


LESSON    XXVIII. 

IMAGINATION. 

(Continued?) 

Scope  of  Constructive  Imagination.  —  In  the  last  lesson 
we  saw  that  the  imagination  of  popular  thought  differs 
widely  from  the  imagination  of  which  Psychology  treats. 
When  people  in  ordinary  conversation  speak  of  imagination, 
they  mean  a  kind  of  constructive  imagination  —  the  kind 
that  poets,  painters,  novelists,  and  musicians  possess  in  an 
unusually  high  degree  —  the  power  of  combining  ideas  or 
images  furnished  by  reproductive  imagination  into  new 
wholes,  without  having  received  suggestions  as  to  the  com- 
binations from  any  one  else.  But  it  is  now  plain  that  we, 
who  understand  the  poems,  paintings,  and  novels  that  are 
the  product  of  the  constructive  imagination,  exercise  con- 
structive imagination.  It  does,  indeed,  require  a  higher 
power  of  it  to  combine  images  and  groups  of  images  origi- 
nally than  to  do  so  under  guidance,  so  much  higher  that 
some  writers  would  give  it  another  name  and  call  it  the 
creative  imagination.  But  if  we  adopt  their  name  we  need 
to  remember  that  the  creative  imagination  of  a  Shakespeare, 
a  Beethoven,  a  Thackeray,  a  Raphael,  does  not  differ  in 
kind  from  that  of  the  child  who  imagines  himself  becoming 
a  bird. 

263 


264  IMAGINATION. 

Differences  in  Constructive  Imagination.  —  This  en- 
ables us  to  see  why  great  works  of  art  —  works  which  are 
the  product  of  a  high  power  of  constructive  imagination  — 
often  wait  a  long  time  to  get  their  proper  appreciation. 
Talk  to  a  child  about  the  pleasure  of  study,  and  he  will 
not  understand  you.  His  experience  has  not  furnished 
him  with  the  material  for  comprehending  what  you  say. 
His  idea  of  happiness  is  the  possession  of  cake  and  candy 
in  abundance,  and  toys  without  stint.  A  little  girl,  who 
wished  to  show  her  affection  for  her  mamma,  urged  her 
papa  to  get  "  a  wheelbarrow  and  a  dollie  "  for  her  mamma 
when  he  went  to  town  ;  and  when  he  came  back  without 
them  she  was  deeply  grieved.  She  built  her  notion  of 
happiness  out  of  the  materials  furnished  by  her  own  expe- 
rience, and  had  no  idea  that  it  was  not  valid  for  every  one. 
Some  great  writers  seem  to  be  so  superior  to  even  their 
most  highly  cultivated  contemporaries  in  their  power  of 
constructive  imagination  that  the  latter  can  not  think  the 
thoughts  of  the  former  even  under  their  direction.  Beet- 
hoven's Grand  Symphony  was  unintelligible  to  his  musical 
contemporaries,  and  Newton's  Principia  was  beyond  the 
comprehension  of  the  best  mathematicians  of  his  time. 
The  intuitions  of  Beethoven  and  Newton,  their  perception 
of  musical  and  mathematical  truth,  were  so  much  more 
vivid  and  profound  than  those  of  their  contemporaries  that 
the  products  of  their  constructive  imagination  were  unin- 
telligible. 

Constructive  Imagination  and  the  Feelings.  —  Con- 
structive imagination  is  also  very  closely  related  to  the 
feelings.  We  have  already  noticed  two  quite  sharply  con- 
trasted cases  in  which  constructive  imagination  works — • 


IMAGINATION   AND    BELIEF.  265 

the  case  in  which  its  products  are  controlled  by  the  will, 
and  that  in  which  the  will  exercises  no  control  whatever 
over  the  play  of  images.  The  products  of  passive  imagina- 
tion—  as  we  may  call  the  latter  —  plainly  depend  upon 
the  feelings.  Tell  me  the  character  of  the  images  that 
habitually  pass  through  your  mind,  and  I  will  tell  you 
what  you  like.  As  you  can  tell  the  tastes  of  a  gourmand 
by  noticing  what  he  eats,  so  you  can  determine  a  man's 
likes  and  dislikes  by  knowing  the  images  upon  which  he 
habitually  dwells.  This  explains  the  very  great  influence 
of  the  feelings  on  belief.  Only  so  far  as  the  facts  of  the 
world  and  of  life  get  imaged 'in  our  minds  do  they  influence 
belief ;  and  those  that  we  image  are,  for  the  most  part, 
those  that  it  gives  us  pleasure  to  think  of  —  those  that  it 
gratifies  some  part  of  our  emotional  nature  to  think  of. 

Relation  between  Imagination  and  Belief.  —  It  follows 
that  the  exercise  of  the  imagination  may  be  attended  with 
very  grave  intellectual  results.  The  desire  to  imagine 
pleasant  things  may  be  stronger  than  the  desire  to  imagine 
things  that  are  true.  All  men  of  strong  prejudices  are 
examples  of  this.  They  are  so  anxious  to  believe  a  par- 
ticular thing  —  find  so  much  pleasure  in  picturing  it  in 
their  imagination  and  thinking  of  it  as  real  —  that  they 
will  not  fairly  consider  the  arguments  that  make  against 
their  favorite  theory.  That  is  the  reason  why  strong  par- 
tisans only  read  the  newspapers  of  their  own  party.  They 
do  not  want  to  read  both  sides  of  the  question.  They  only 
want  to  see  their  own  side  strongly  supported,  that  they 
may  have  the  pleasure  of  dwelling  upon  arguments  that 
support  the  conclusion  they  have  made  up  their  minds  to 
believe. 


266  IMAGINATION. 

But  the  constructive  imagination  is  often  exercised  for 
the  sake  of  the  feelings.  When  you  build  air  castles,  what 
are  you  doing  ?  Exercising  the  constructive  imagination 
-  bringing  before  your  mind  images  of  what  you  would 
like  to  be  real.  Why  do  you  do  it  ?  Because  it  pleases 
you.  That  is  the  reason  why  most  people  are  so  fond  of 
reading  novels.  The  events  which  the  novelist  enables 
them  to  picture  please  them  more  than  the  prosaic  realities 
of  every-day  life.  Sully  has  a  paragraph  on  this  subject 
that  is  worthy  of  careful  attention.  "  The  indulgence  in 
these  pleasures  of  the  imagination,"  he  says,  "is  legitimate 
within  certain  bounds.  But  it  is  attended  with  dangers. 
A  youth  whose  mind  dwells  long  on  the  wonders  of 
romance  may  grow  discontented  with  his  actual  surround- 
ings, and  so  morally  unfit  for  the  work  and  duties  of  life. 
Or  —  what  comes  to  much  the  same  —  he  learns  to  satisfy 
himself  with  these  imaginative  indulgences,  and  so,  by  the 
habitual  severance  of  feeling  from  will,  gradually  becomes 
incapable  of  deciding  and  acting  —  a  result  illustrated  by 
the  history  of  Coleridge  and  other  dreamers."  I  read  a 
story  of  a  Russian  lady  which  illustrates  this.  She  went 
to  the  theatre,  and  wept  freely  over  the  imaginary  suffer- 
ings of  the  hero  of  the  tragedy ;  while  the  knowledge  that 
her  coachman  was  shivering  in  the  cold  on  the  outside 
waiting  for  her  did  not  cause  the  faintest  suggestion  of 
pity.  Of  course,  if  we  read  novels  not  merely  for  pleasure, 
but  for  their  interpretations  of  life  —  for  the  light  they 
throw  upon  our  relations  to  our  fellows  —  such  a  "  sev- 
erance of  feeling  from  will"  can  not  follow.  It  is  for 
teachers  and  parents  to  see  to  it  that  novel-reading  serves 
its  proper  educational  purpose  —  the  purpose  of  broaden- 
ing and  strengthening  the  imagination,  and  preparing  the 


IMAGINATION    AND   ACTION.  267 

will  for  its  proper  work  by  giving  the  feelings  that  are 
excited  by  it  an  active  direction. 

Relation  between  Imagination  and  Action.  —  It  fol- 
lows from  all  this  that  what  we  will  to  do  often  depends 
upon  constructive  imagination.  Men  do  rash  things  because 
they  do  not  clearly  realize  the  consequences  of  their  con- 
duct. Help  a  boy  form  the  habit  of  clearly  and  fully 
realizing  the  probable  consequences  of  his  conduct  —  help 
him  form  the  habit  of  realizing  that  the  consequences  of 
our  acts  depend  not  upon  our  wishes  and  intentions,  but 
upon  the  nature  of  our  acts  —  and  you  have  gone  a  long 
way  toward  giving  him  the  power  and  the  habit  of  willing 
intelligently. 

This  brief  survey  of  the  relation  of  imagination  to  our 
mental  life  enables  us  to  realize  what  indeed  a  considera- 
tion of  its  nature  would  have  enabled  us  to  see  beforehand 
—  that  the  part  it  plays  in  our  mental  life  is  of  the  very 
highest  importance.  Not  reality,  but  what  gets  repre- 
sented in  our  minds  as  reality  —  not  what  is,  but  what  is 
imaged — affects  our  mental  life.  It  is  exceedingly  inter- 
esting and  instructive  to  note  the  nai've  self-importance  of 
a  child  —  the  belief,  appearing  in  so  many  forms,  that 
the  world  exists  for  him.  The  stern  relentlessness  of 
nature  —  the  stoic  disregard  of  our  desires  and  wishes  with 
which  she  pushes  on  to  her  own  ends,  trampling  us  under 
foot  if  we  but  cross  her  path  —  has  not  got  imaged  in  his 
mind.  And  until  it  does,  his  attitude  toward  the  world  is 
precisely  the  same  as  though  his  thoughts  were  true.  If, 
indeed,  it  is  true  —  and  is  it  not  ?  —  that  all  good  causes 
depend  upon  the  right  training  of  the  child,  is  it  not 
evident  what  tremendous  importance  attaches  to  the  right 


268  IMAGINATION. 

training  of  the  faculty  that  constitutes  the  audience-chamber 
in  which  Reality  gets  its  only  hearing  ? 

Effects  of  Training  the  Imagination.  —  The  accurate 
study  of  any  subject  is  a  training  of  the  imagination,  and 
yet  there  is  scarcely  one  that  does  not  tend  to  dispose  the 
mind  to  be  inhospitable  to  the  images  that  represent  cer- 
tain phases  of  Reality.  The  specialist  in  mathematics  is 
in  danger  of  forgetting  that  not  all  reality  is  demonstrable ; 
hints  and  suggestions  and  probabilities,  that  fall  short  of 
demonstration,  he  is  in  danger  of  despising.  The  specialist 
in  literature  is  in  danger  of  thinking  of  the  attainment  of 
truth  as  altogether  too  easy  a  matter.  What  did  Shake- 
speare mean  ?  What  he  —  the  student  —  finds  in  him. 
And  he  is  in  danger  of  being  much  too  ready  to  project 
himself  after  the  same  fashion  into  the  great  Book  of 
Nature,  and  get  at  the  heart  of  her  mysteries  in  the  same 
easy  way.  The  specialist  in  any  branch  of  natural  science 
is  in  danger  of  forgetting  that  there  are  any  facts  except 
those  that  can  be  weighed  and  measured,  or  that  anything 
is  worthy  of  belief  that  can  not  be  proved  experimentally. 
The  specialist  in  mind  is,  or  rather  was  (it  is  scarcely  true 
now  that  so  much  stress  is  laid  on  Physiological  Psychol- 
ogy), in  danger  of  undervaluing  the  methods  of  natural 
science  —  the  methods  that  have  so  completely  transformed 
the  civilization  of  this  century. 

All  this  enables  us  to  see  that  one  of  our  great  intellect- 
ual needs  is  breadth  of  culture,  which  is  indeed,  for  the 
most  part,  but  another  name  for  that  training  which  makes 
us  disposed  and  able  to  give  a  fair  hearing  to  all  sides  of 
Reality,  and  that  we  are  in  danger  of  missing  it  through 
too  early  specialization. 


IMAGINATION    AND   GEOGRAPHY.  269 

Imagination  and  Geography.  —  But  while  the  various 
subjects  mentioned  above  afford  scope  for  the  cultivation 
of  the  imagination,  we  shall,  of  course,  bear  in  mind  that 
the  subjects  especially  adapted  to  its  training  in  the  public 
schools  are  history,  geography,  and  reading.  We  should 
prepare  to  teach  history  in  part  by  getting  a  thorough 
comprehension  of  the  motives  of  the  men  who  played  a 
leading  part  in  history ;  and  we  should  endeavor  to  give 
our  pupils  such  insight  into  their  characters  as  to  check 
the  tendency  to  unqualified  praise  and  blame.  We  should 
also  try  to  give  them  the  power  to  hold  in  their  minds 
complex  groups  of  facts,  that  they  may  see  their  relations 
to  each  other.  In  descriptive  geography,  we  should  try  to 
leave  in  their  minds  definite  and  clear  images  of  the  coun- 
tries they  are  studying.  See  the  kind  of  knowledge  of 
Tasmania  Dr.  Arnold  wanted  :  "Will  you  describe  to  me 
the  general  aspect  of  the  country  round  Hobart  Town  ? 
To  this  day  I  never  could  meet  with  a  description  of  the 
common  face  of  the  country  about  New  York  or  Boston  or 
Philadelphia,  and  therefore  I  have  no  distinct  ideas  of  it. 
Is  your  country  plain  or  undulating,  your  valleys  deep  or 
shallow,  curving,  or  with  steep  sides  and  flat  bottoms  ? 
Are  your  fields  large  or  small,  parted  by  hedges  or  stone 
walls,  with  single  trees  about  them,  or  patches  of  wood 
here  and  there  ?  Are  there  many  scattered  houses,  and 
what  are  they  built  of  —  brick,  wood,  or  stone  ?  And  what 
are  the  hills  and  streams  like  —  ridges  or  with  waving 
summits,  with  plain  sides  or  indented  with  combs,  full  of 
springs  or  dry,  and  what  is  their  geology  ?"  Such  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  look  of  a  country  we  want  to  get  and  give  our 
pupils,  and  such  knowledge  can  not  fail  to  increase  the 
power  to  form  vivid  images  of  things. 


270  IMAGINATION. 

Imagination  and  Reading.  —  One  of  Mr.  Gallon's 
incidents  will  enable  us  to  see  the  difference  between  the 
proper  and  the  improper  use  of  the  imagination  in  reading. 
"  I  want  to  tell  you  about  a  boat,"  he  said  to  a  company 
one  day,  and,  before  proceeding  further,  he  asked  them  to 
tell  him  what  his  words  suggested.  "  One  person,  a  young 
lady,  said  that  she  immediately  saw  the  image  of  a  rather 
large  boat  pushing  off  from  the  shore,  and  that  it  was  full 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  ladies  being  dressed  in  blue 
and  white."  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  that  kind  of 
imagination  interferes  with  abstract  thought.  "  Another 
person,  who  was  accustomed  to  philosophize,  said  that  the 
word  '  boat '  had  aroused  no  definite  image  becatise  he 
had  purposely  held  his  mind  in  suspense."  But  if  Mr. 
Galton  had  gone  on  :  "  The  boat  was  a  four-oared  racing- 
boat,  it  was  passing  quickly  to  the  left  just  in  front  of  me, 
and  the  men  were  bending  forward  to  take  a  fresh  stroke," 
then  his  hearers  should  have  formed  a  picture ;  and  the  more 
vivid,  detailed,  and  exact  the  picture,  the  more  completely 
the  imagination  would  have  subserved  its  proper  function. 
In  the  teaching  of  reading,  then,  discourage  your  pupils 
from  forming  definite  images  corresponding  to  general 
terms,  but  encourage  them  to  form  exact  and  detailed 
images  corresponding  to  particular  terms. 

Child  Study  and  Imagination.  —  But  there  are  other 
suggestions  that  I  think  we  should  get  from  this  study  of 
imagination.  We  have  seen  how  universally  active  the 
constructive  imagination  is,  and  yet  that  it  depends  for  its 
materials  upon  the  reproductive  imagination.  We  see, 
therefore,  from  a  new  point  of  view  the  necessity  of  making 
a  careful  study  of  our  pupils.  You  would  not  hire  a  man 


QUESTIONS.  271 

to  build  a  house  without  furnishing  the  necessary  materials. 
Be  equally  reasonable  with  your  pupils,  and  do  not  expect 
them  to  build  images  out  of  nothing.  Many  a  little  boy  or 
girl  has  an  utterly  erroneous  idea  of  an  ocean,  because  the 
teacher  has  not  taken  pains  to  dwell  on  the  experiences 
the  images  of  which  would  have  made  the  required  activity 
of  the  constructive  imagination  possible. 

But  with  all  the  pains  you  may  take,  if  you  want  to  be 
sure  that  your  pupils  have  performed  the  necessary  acts  of 
constructive  imagination,  there  is  but  one  way- — by  ques- 
tioning. We  are  constantly  talking  to  our  pupils  about 
matters  that,  by  long  reading  and  reflection,  have  become 
familiar  to  us.  First  comprehended  with  difficulty,  they 
have  become  so  simple  that  we  forget  how  they  looked 
when  our  minds  got  their  first  glimpse  of  them.  We  can 
hardly  realize  that  what  is  so  simple  to  us  should  be  diffi- 
cult to  any  one,  and  we  never  shall  realize  it  save  by  ever- 
lasting questioning. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  last  lesson. 

2.  Contrast  the  ordinary  ideas  of  imagination  with  that  set  forth 
in  this  lesson. 

3.  Why  is  it  that  the  works  of  "creative  imagination"  are  often 
beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  age  in  which  they  were  produced  ? 

4.  Show  the  influence  of  the  feelings  on  constructive  imagination, 
and  of  the  constructive  imagination  on  the  feelings. 

5.  Account  for  strong  partisanship. 

6.  What  is  "  the  severance  of  feeling  from  will  "  ? 

7.  Show  the  place  and  importance  of  imagination  in  our  mental  life. 

8.  What  is  breadth  of  culture,  and  how  can  it  be  gained  ? 

9.  What  uses  should  be  made  of  the  imagination  in  teaching  his- 
tory, geography,  and  reading  ? 


272  IMAGINATION. 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Mathematicians  and  musicians  to-day  understand  with  ease 
Newton's  Principia  and  Beethoven's  Grand  Symphony  ;     account 
for  the  fact. 

2.  Make  a  study  of  the  minds  of  the  children  you  meet  for  the 
purpose  of  learning  (i)  what  they  have  formed  images  of ;  and  (2)  to 
what  an  extent  their  images  are  due  to  their  social  surroundings,  and 
to  what  an  extent  to  the  common  impulses  of  childhood. 

3.  How  would  you  try  to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  open-mindedness  ? 

4.  What  subject  in   the   public   school   course   offers   the   best 
material  for  this  purpose  ? 

5.  How  would  you  try  to  prevent  the  severance  of  feeling  from 
will? 

6.  Do  persons  who  are  "  naturally  suspicious  "  get  pleasure  from 
indulging    in    their    suspicions,    even    when    what    they    suspect    is 
unpleasant  ? 


LESSON    XXIX. 

CONCEPTION. 

What  the  Mind  Does  in  Conception.  —  The  word 
"dog"  evidently  does  not  mean  the  same  as  "this  dog." 
"  This  dog  "  may  be  a  long-haired,  long-nosed,  long-eared 
black  dog,  with  white  spots  on  his  back ;  while  "  dog  "  is 
the  name  not  only  of  this  dog,  but  of  all  dogs  whatever. 
The  same  is  true,  of  course,  of  all  general  names.  All 
general  names  are  names  of  classes  —  names  that  are 
applicable  to  every  individual  of  the  class  —  while  particu- 
lar names,  such  as  proper  nouns  and  common  nouns,  lim- 
ited by  words  like  "  this  "  and  "  that,"  are  names  that  can 
be  applied  in  the  same  sense  to  but  one  individual.  How 
did  the  mind  get  this  power  —  this  power  to  use  class- 
names  intelligently  ?  We  never  see  a  class  ; l  we  only  see 
individuals.  Classes  do  not  make  themselves  known  to 
us  through  any  of  the  senses.  How,  then,  does  the  mind 
form  an  idea  of  a  class  ?  To  answer  that  question  is  to 
state  what  the  mind  does  in  conception,  for  conception  is 
that  act  of  the  mind  by  which  it  forms  an  idea  of  a  class, 
or  -that  act  of  the  mind  that  enables  us  to  use  general 
names  intelligently. 

1  It  is,  of  course,  understood  that  I  am  using  the  word  "  class  "  to  denote 
an  indefinite  number  of  individuals  that  resemble  each  other  in  certain 
particulars. 

273 


2/4  CONCEPTION. 

First  Step  towards  a  Knowledge  of  Things.  —  We 

have  seen  that  our  mental  life  begins  with  unclassified, 
unknown,  indefinite,  undifferenced  sensations  —  that  the 
first  step  towards  a  knowledge  of  things  consists  in  the 
transformation  of  what  we  can  only  describe  as  vague 
feeling  into  definite  sensations  of  this  and  that  character. 
I  say  the  first  step.  We  must  be  careful  to  note  that  this 
transformation  is  not  finished ;  a  child  does  not  become 
conscious  of  definite  sensations  of  sound  and  taste  before 
it  begins  to  take  the  second  step  —  before  it  begins  to 
localize  its  sensations.  We  must  think  of  this  transforma- 
tion not  as  an  instantaneous  process,  but  as  a  gradual 
change.  A  change  in  the  direction  of  decreasing  indefi- 
niteness  in  sensations  is  undoubtedly  the  first  change  in 
the  direction  of  knowledge  of  things,  or,  indeed,  of  any 
knowledge  whatever.  But  before  any  sensation  has  the 
definite  character  our  sensations  now  have  when  we  attend 
to  them,  the  child  begins  to  take  the  second  step  —  it 
begins  to  localize  its  sensations. 

Second  and  Third  Steps.  —  But  here  again  we  must 
note  that  this  feeling  of  place  may  have  very  different 
degrees  of  definiteness.  Even  in  our  mature  experiences 
we  are  sometimes  conscious  of  sensations  of  pain  without 
being  able  to  locate  them  precisely,  as  when  we  have  the 
toothache  and  do  not  know  exactly  which  tooth  aches. 
This  process  of  localization,  then,  is  at  first  a  vague  feeling  of 
whereness ;  and  before  this  vague  feeling  becomes  a  knowl- 
edge of  a  definite  place  —  before  the  second  step  towards 
a  knowledge  of  things  has  been  fully  taken — the  third 
begins;  the  child's  sensations  are  beginning  to  be  grouped 
together  and  regarded  as  qualities  of  external  objects. 


KNOWLEDGE    OF  INDIVIDUALS.  275 

In  What  does  the  Knowledge  of  Individuals  Con- 
sist ?  —  Let  us  suppose  the  three  steps  taken ;  let  us 
suppose  that  a  child  has  come  to  know  a  long-haired,  long- 
nosed,  long-eared  black  dog,  with  white  spots  on  his  back, 
to  such  an  extent  that,  when  asked  where  the  dog  is,  he 
looks  at  him,  and  says  "dog"  when  he  sees  him,  as  soon 
as  he  begins  to  talk.  In  what  does  this  knowledge  con- 
sist ?  In  the  fact  that  he  has  associated  certain  sensations 
of  color  with  certain  sensations  of  touch  —  those  which  he 
has  received  from  running  his  hand  over  the  dog  —  and 
both  these  with  the  name  "dog."  This  is  how  it  happens 
that  when  he  sees  or  feels  the  dog  he  thinks  of  the  name, 
and  that  when  he  hears  the  name  he  thinks  of  the  dog. 
The  sensations  of  color  and  touch,  and  the  name  "dog," 
have  become  so  tied  together  by  association  by  contiguity 
that  one  always  brings  the  other  to  his  mind. 

But  now  we  need  to  remember  that  the  pair  so  tied 
together  is,  strictly  speaking,  not  one  pair  at  all,  but  an 
indefinite  number  of  pairs  more  or  less  closely  resembling 
each  other.  No  matter  who  says  "  dog,"  whether  papa,  or 
mamma,  or  brother,  or  sister,  or  nurse,  whether  the  word 
is  pronounced  in  a  high  or  low  tone  of  voice,  whether  the 
speaker  is  one  foot  or  ten  feet  away,  the  child  thinks  of 
"dog."  But  the  sensation  of  sound  in  each  of  these 
cases  is  different.  No  matter  where  he  sees  the  dog, 
whether  in-doors  or  out ;  no  matter  what  the  dog  is 
doing,  whether  eating  or  drinking,  walking,  running, 
standing,  or  lying  down,  the  child  recognizes  him  - 
thinks  of  his  name.  But  the  sensation  of  color  in  each 
of  these  cases  is  different.  This  looks  like  general 
knowledge  to  begin  with.  We  are  trying  to  learn  how 
the  mind  forms  general  ideas  — how  it  gains  the  power 


276  CONCEPTION. 

to  use  general  names  intelligently.  It  looks  as  though  it 
exercises  this  power  even  in  knowing  individual  objects. 
The  spoken  word  "  dog  "  is  itself  the  name  of  a  large  class 
of  sounds ;  for,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  not  only  a  different 
sound  in  the  mouth  of  every  different  speaker,  but  in  no 
two  cases  do  they  exactly  resemble  each  other.  The  sen- 
sations of  color,  also,  received  from  the  dog  are  not  the 
same  sensations,  but  an  indefinitely  large  class  of  more  or 
less  closely  resembling  sensations.  The  child,  then,  in 
recognizing  the  word  "  dog  "  whenever  he  hears  it,  and  the 
sensations  of  color  received  from  the  dog  whenever  he 
sees  him,  seems  to  perform  a  mental  act  very  much  like 
recognizing  any  dog  whenever  he  sees  him ;  but  that 
implies  a  knowledge  of  the  class  "dog"  —  implies,  in  a 
word,  the  exercise  of  the  very  power  of  conception  we  are 
trying  to  explain. 

What  does  the  Child  Know  First  ?  —  But  are  we  not 

mistaken  ?  Students  of  mind,  from  Aristotle  down,  have 
noticed  that  when  a  child  begins  to  talk  it  calls  all  men 
"papa"  indiscriminately.  What  is  the  explanation  of  this  ? 
It  must  be  either  that  the  child  perceives  the  resemblance 
between  other  men  and  his  papa,  and  applies  the  same 
name  to  them  because  of  their  resemblance  —  knowing, 
nevertheless,  that  they  are  different  individuals  —  or  that 
he  confuses  every  man  with  his  papa,  because  he  sees  no 
difference  between  them.  If  we  accept  the  latter,  we  must 
say  with  Sir  William  Hamilton,  that  "  in  the  mouths  of 
children  language  at  first  expresses  neither  the  precisely 
general  nor  the  determinately  individual,  but  the  vagtie 
and  confused"  and  that  this  vague  and  confused  idea, 
modified  in  one  direction,  becomes  the  definite  knowledge 


REASONS.  277 

of  an  individual ;  modified  in  another,  the  definite  knowl- 
edge of  a  class.  "  Papa,"  for  example,  would  not  mean  to 
a  child  his  own  father,  neither  would  it  be  the  name  of  a 
class  perceived  to  consist  of  different  individuals,  but  the 
name  applied  to  resembling  individuals  not  known  to  be 
different. 

In  discussing  this  question,  we  must  try  to  get  at  the 
heart  of  the  matter ;  we  must  try  to  separate  what  is 
merely  accidental  and  incidental  from  what  is  essential. 
What  is  the  essential  fact  maintained  ?  It  is  that  the  first 
knowledge  which  children  have  of  the  persons  and  things 
about  them  is  not  of  persons  and  known  things  to  be  defi- 
nite individuals,  but  of  persons  and  things  confused  with 
each  other,  because  of  their  resemblances.  This  may  be 
true,  and  the  contention  of  Aristotle  and  of  many  students 
of  mind  since  his  time  —  that  children  call  all  men  "papa," 
for  example,  indiscriminately  —  may  be  false.  Children 
begin  to  talk  at  quite  different  stages  of  their  development. 
If  the  theory  is  true,  we  may  expect,  therefore,  to  see  evi- 
dences of  this  confusion  in  the  language  of  some  children 
when  they  begin  to  talk,  and  not  in  that  of  others. 

Reasons. —  I  believe  that  the  first  knowledge  of  children 
is  of  this  character  :  (i)  because  the  mind  perceives  resem- 
blances more  easily  than  differences.  I  know  two  brothers 
whom  at  first  I  could  scarcely  tell  apart ;  now,  I  see  that 
they  are  so  unlike  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  I  should 
ever  have  confused  them.  What  is  the  explanation  ?  At 
first  I  saw  resemblances  only;  not  until  I  had  seen  them 
often  did  I  note  the  differences  between  them.  Children's 
minds  evidently  work  the  same  way.  Ducks,  geese,  swans 
are  all  ducks  to  them.  And  we  may  expect  them  to  show 


278  CONCEPTION. 

as  much  less  power  in  perceiving  differences  than  we 
possess  as  their  minds  are  less  developed  than  ours. 
(2)  There  are  cases  in  which  children  tmquestionably  con- 
fuse different  individuals,  one  of  whom  they  know  well, 
because  of  their  resemblances.  Perez  teils  the  following 
story  of  a  child  of  thirteen  months  :  "As  one  of  his  cousins 
was  like  his  uncle,  having  the  same  sort  of  beard,  and  the 
same  kind  of  figure  and  voice,  the  child  treated  him  at 
once  as  an  old  acquaintance.  He  called  him  Toto  (the 
name  he  had  given  to  his  uncle).  .  .  .  Seeing  a  pencil  in 
his  cousin's  hand,  he  took  it  from  him,  put  it  in  his  mouth, 
and  made  with  his  lips  the  movements  and  sounds  of  a 
man  who  is  smoking  and  puffing  his  smoke  in  the  air. 
His  uncle  used  to  smoke.  When  he  got  down  from  the 
table  he  said,  'lou,  lou,  lou,  lou,'  in  a  tone  of  entreaty. 
This  was  explained  to  the  cousin  as  signifying  that  he  was 
to  imitate  the  dog  as  his  uncle  was  in  the  habit  of  doing 
to  the  child's  great  delight.  Out  in  the  garden  the  child 
made  another  request,  which  his  cousin  did  not  under- 
stand, much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  former,  who  was 
accustomed  to  being  instantly  obeyed  by  his  uncle.  .  .  . 
His  cousin,  having  been  coached  up  in  his  part,  humored, 
as  far  as  possible,  all  the  habits  which  his  uncle  had  made 
necessary  to  the  child  ;  but  some  he  replaced  by  ways  of 
his  own ;  and  the  end  of  it  was,  that  after  being  with  his 
cousin  three  weeks  the  child  afterwards  expected  from  his 
uncle  all  the  gestures,  tones  of  voice,  games,  indulgences, 
and  acts  of  obedience  which  the  new  Toto  had  accustomed 
him  to." 

What  Makes  the  Perception  of  Individuals  Possible  ? 
—  Such  facts  seem  to  show  that  the  first  knowledge  of 


QUESTIONS.  279 

children  is  neither  of  individuals  nor  of  classes.  Not  of 
individuals,  because  the  child  has  only  noted  resemblances 
between  things,  or  between  the  same  thing  seen  at  dif- 
ferent times.  But  the  perception  of  individuals  is  impos- 
sible without  the  perception  of  differences.  Two  men  with 
exactly  similar  beard,  same  complexion,  of  the  same  size 
—  exactly  similar  in  every  respect,  and  occupying  the 
same  position  —  would  not  be  two  men,  but  one.  Two 
men  also  who  seemed  to  be  exactly  alike  in  every  respect 
would  be  regarded  as  the  same  person,  however  unlike 
they  might  be.  Also,  the  first  knowledge  of  children  is 
not  of  classes,  because,  until  they  know  individuals,  they 
can  not  know  classes,  since  a  class  means  and  is  nothing 
but  a  collection  of  individuals  resembling  each  other  in 
certain  particulars.  But  their  first  ideas  of  things  are 
vague,  confused  ideas  of  resemblances  between  things  not 
known  to  be  different.  To  avoid  circumlocution,  we  will 
call  this  idea  a  class-image. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Trace  the  progress  of  the  mind  from  indefinite  sensations  to  the 
knowledge  of  external  objects. 

2.  What  kind  of  knowledge  do  children  first  gain  of  external 
objects  ? 

3.  Justify  your  answer. 

4.  State  the  case  reported  by  Perez.     What  does  it  prove? 

SUGGESTIVE    QUESTIONS. 

1 .  Report  any  cases  similar  to  the  one  reported  by  Perez,  that 
have  come  under  your  observation. 

2.  Have  you  noticed  children  calling  other  men  "  papa,"  and  if  so, 
did  you  notice  whether  they  seemed  to  look  upon  them  as  strangers,  or 


28O  CONCEPTION. 

whether  their  manner  towards  them  was  the  same  as  towards  their 
own  papa  ? 

3.  Can  you   prove   by  your   observation   of   children    that   they 
perceive  resemblances  more  easily  than  differences  ? 

4.  Can  you  prove  by  your  own  experience  that  you  do  the  same 
thing  ? 


LESSON    XXX. 

CONCEPTION. 
(Continued?) 

Steps  towards  the  Knowledge  of  Concepts.  —  Since 
a  knowledge  of  class-images  antecedes  a  knowledge  of 
individuals,  to  explain  conception  we  have  first  to  explain 
how  the  knowledge  of  class-images  externalized  as  things 
becomes  a  knowledge  of  definite  individuals.  Evidently 
the  various  steps  or  stages  that  mark  the  progress  of  the 
mind  from  those  undifferentiated,  indefinite  sensations 
with  which  our  mental  life  began  to  the  formation  of  con- 
cepts are  (i)  the  knowledge  of  class-images  externalized 
as  things ;  (2)  the  knowledge  of  individuals ;  and  (3)  the 
formation  of  concepts. 

How  a  Knowledge  of  Class-Images  Becomes  a  Knowl- 
edge of  Individuals.  —  To  see  how  the  knowledge  of 
class-images  externalized  as  things  becomes  the  knowledge 
of  individuals,  we  must  study  our  own  experiences.  Why 
did  I  confuse  the  two  brothers  mentioned  in  the  last 
lesson  ?  Because  I  saw  no  differences  between  them. 
It  seems  hard  to  realize  that  a  child  can  see  no  difference 
between  a  large  man  with  a  full  beard  and  a  small  one  with 
none.  But  our  powers  of  perceiving  both  resemblances 
and  differences  are  much  greater  than  a  child's ;  and  if  I 

281 


282  CONCEPTION. 

could  confuse  two  people  whom  I  now  see  to  be  very 
unlike,  we  shall  be  able  to  realize  that  a  child  may  see 
.two  very  different  things  without  being  able  to  observe 
any  difference  between  them.  How  did  I  finally  gain  the 
power  to  tell  them  apart  ?  By  withdrawing  my  attention 
from  them  as  wholes  and  fixing  it  upon  individual 
features  —  size,  color  of  eyes,  and  the  like.  In  precisely 
similar  ways  the  child  gains  the  power  to  distinguish 
individuals.  And  here  we  can  see  why  it  is  so  hard  for 
him  to  acquire  it.  It  is  easy  for  you  to  withdraw  your 
attention  from  objects  as  wholes  and  fix  it  upon  parts  or 
qualities,  but  it  is  very  hard  for  a  child.  The  individual 
features  are  there,  but  he  does  not  see  them  because  he 
does  not  attend  to  them.  But  little  by  little  he  gains  the 
power  to  fix  his  attention  upon  individual  features,  and  as 
he  acquires  it  he  gains  a  knowledge  of  individuals. 

What  Differences  are  First  Noted  ?  — When  a  child 
distinguishes  individuals  because  he  notes  some  of  the 
differences  between  them,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  he  will 
first  note  only  the  most  striking  differences.  The  first 
difference  that  he  notes  between  a  big  black  dog  and  a 
small  white  one  is  probably  a  difference  in  color.  The 
class-image  of  dog  has  become,  on  the  one  hand,  the  per- 
ception of  individual  dogs.  Seeing  no  difference  between 
them  except  in  color,  and  noticing  that  they  are  both 
called  dogs,  he  drops  out  of  his  class-image  of  dog  the 
element  of  color,  and  associates  what  is  left  with  the  name 
"dog"  whenever  he  hears  it.  What  is  left  of  the  class- 
image  when  the  element  of  color  is  dropped  out  of  it  is  a 
rudimentary  concept,  and  the  act  of  mind  by  which  it  is 
reached  is  conception. 


STEPS  IN  FORMING  A  CONCEPT.       283 

Steps  in  Forming  a  Concept.  —  Let  us  observe  closely 
the  steps  that  led  from  the  percept  of  the  individual  to  the 
concept  of  the  class.  The  first  step  taken  by  the  child 
towards  the  formation  of  the  concept  consisted  in  fixing 
his  attention  upon  both  dogs,  or  upon  one  dog  and  an 
image  of  the  other  at  the  same  time.  Let  us  call  this  first 
step  comparison.  The  second  consisted  in  withdrawing 
his  attention  from  the  point  of  unlikeness —  color- — and 
fixing  it  upon  their  points  of  likeness.  Precisely  as  an 
essential  step  towards  a  knowledge  of  individuals  consists 
in  withdrawing  the  attention  from  the  objects  as  wholes 
and  fixing  it  upon  individual  parts  or  features,  so  an  essen- 
tial step  towards  a  formation  of  concepts  consists  in  with- 
drawing the  attention  from  the  points  in  which  the  objects 
compared  are  seen  to  be  unlike,  and  fixing  it  upon  those 
in  which  they  are  seen  to  be  like.  Let  us  call  this  step 
abstraction.  The  third  step  consisted  in  applying  the 
name  "dog"  to  all  other  objects  having  the  same  charac- 
teristics —  in  making  the  name  general  by  making  it  the 
name  of  a  class.  Let  us  call  $&v&  generalization.  These 
three  acts  of  the  mind,  then  —  comparison,  or  the  fixing  of 
the  attention  upon  two  or  more  objects  at  the  same  time ; 
abstraction,  or  withdrawing  it  from  some  of  their  unlike- 
nesses  and  putting  it  upon  some  of  their  likenesses ;  gen- 
eralization, or  the  making  of  a  name  general  by  making  it 
the  name  of  all  the  individuals  possessing  similar  qualities 
—  are  the  three  acts  that  constitute  conception. 

Concepts  Liable  to  Change.  —  We  see  at  once  that  the 
concept  —  the  product  of  conception  —  is  liable  to  constant 
change.  The  only  difference  that  the  child  first  observes 
between  the  two  dogs  is  a  difference  in  color.  As  he 


284  CONCEPTION. 

observes  them  more  and  more  carefully  he  notices  more 
and  more  differences  —  the  word  "dog"  means  a  smaller 
and  smaller  number  of  attributes.  And  when  he  hears 
the  name  applied  to  other  animals  he  naturally  puts  them 
in  the  same  class,  and  the  meaning  of  "dog"  is  correspond- 
ingly reduced,  although  each  separate  act  of  abstraction 
is  followed  by  an  act  of  generalization  —  the  extending 
of  the  name  so  reduced  in  meaning  to  all  objects  having 
the  common  characteristics  he  has  observed. 

But  while  a  more  careful  and  a  wider  observation  of 
dogs  in  this  way  reduces  the  concept,  it  may  enlarge  it  in 
another  way.  The  child  may  notice  points  of  resemblance 
before  unobserved.  In  this  way  his  concept  is  made  to 
include  more  attributes  —  the  class-name  comes  to  have  a 
richer  meaning. 

Definition  of  Concept.  —  From  the  point  of  view  we 
have  now  reached  we  can  see  with  some  definiteness  what 
a  concept  is.  It  was  said  above  that  a  concept  is  the 
product  of  conception,  and  that  conception  is  that  act  of 
the  mind  which  enables  us  to  use  general  names  intel- 
ligently. This  amounts  to  saying  that  we  have  a  concept 
of  a  class  when  we  can  use  the  class-name  intelligently, 
but  as  to  what  a  concept  is  —  we  are  left  entirely  in  the 
dark. 

If  we  carefully  look  into  our  minds  when  we  hear  or  use 
a  general  term  which  we  understand,  I  think  we  shall  find 
either  no  mental  picture  whatever  corresponding  to  it,  or 
else  a  mental  picture  with  the  feeling  that  a  great  many 
other  mental  pictures  woiild  serve  the  purpose  just  as  well. 
When  any  one  speaks  of  "dogs,"  for  example,  in  my  hear- 
ing, I  shall  probably  not  form  a  mental  picture  of  any  dog 


VOLUNTARY  AND  INVOLUNTARY  CONCEPTS.      285 

whatever.  As  I  hear  the  word,  a  feeling  of  familiarity 
arises  in  my  mind,  a  feeling  that  I  know  what  is  meant, 
and  this  feeling,  attaching  itself  to  the  word,  constitutes 
my  entire  conceptual  consciousness,  so  far  as  that  case  is 
concerned.  But  if  I  do  form  a  picture  of  some  particular 
dog,  I  do  it  with  the  feeling  that  the  picture  of  any  other 
dog  would  do  as  well.  In  that  event,  this  picture  with  the 
accompanying  feeling  constitutes  my  entire  conceptual 
consciousness. 

Voluntary  and  Involuntary  Concepts.  —  The  attention 
that  results  in  comparison  and  abstraction  may  be  either 
voluntary  or  involuntary,  and  therefore  concepts  may  be 
formed  voluntarily  or  involuntarily.  We  know  from  our 
study  of  attention  that  the  concepts  that  a  child  forms  in 
the  first  years  of  his  life  will,  for  the  most  part,  be  formed 
involuntarily  because  he  is  not  able  to  give  much  voluntary 
attention. 

How  to  Make  Inaccurate  Concepts  Accurate.  —  Of 

course,  concepts  formed  in  this  by-rule-of -thumb  manner 
are  indistinct  and  inaccurate.  They  are  sure  to  contain 
attributes  that  careful  observation  would  exclude,  and  not 
to  include  others  that  such  observation  would  bring  to 
light.  But  we  must  remember  that  it  is  exactly  this  kind 
of  concepts  that  constitutes  the  furniture  of  a  child's  mind 
when  he  first  starts  to  school.  To  transform  these  indistinct 
and  inaccurate  concepts  into  those  that  are  distinct  and 
accurate  —  to  enlarge  the  number  of  concepts  —  is  evi- 
dently an  important  part  of  education. 

We  shall  be  able  to  do  this  more  intelligently  if  we 
remember  not  only  the  manner  in  which  they  are  formed, 


286  CONCEPTION. 

but  the  condition  upon  which  their  formation  depends. 
That  condition  is  the  perception  of  resemblances  between 
different  individuals.  Until  resemblances  are  perceived, 
no  concept  of  the  resembling  objects  can  be  formed.  That 
is  why  a  child  finds  it  so  hard  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  numbers.  Four  horses,  four  cats,  four  toys,  etc.,  re- 
semble each  other  in  being  four,  but  they  seem  to  the 
young  child  to  have  nothing  in  common  —  and  therefore 
he  does  not  know  what  you  mean  when  you  call  them  all 
fours.  Not  till  his  mind  is  able  to  detach  the  fact  common 
to  them  all  will  he  be  able  to  understand  you. 

One  of  my  students  recently  told  me  of  a  pupil  to  whom 
he  could  not  teach  numbers.  The  child  was  eight  years 
old,  and  after  persistent  efforts  to  learn  the  significance  of 
numbers  would  say,  when  asked  how  many  cows  there 
were  in  the  field,  seven  or  nine,  for  example,  when  she 
should  have  said  three. 

The  difficulty  in  such  cases  is  that  the  child  has  not 
formed  the  concept  of  numbers,  the  child  has  not  seen 
that  three  dogs  resemble  three  blackboards  in  one  par- 
ticular—  in  the  particular  of  being  three. 

Until  this  resemblance  is  clearly  seen,  the  attempt  to 
teach  the  names  of  numbers  must  be  utterly  unavailing. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE  TEXT. 

1 .  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  last  lesson. 

2.  Define   class-image.      What    is   meant  by   "externalized   as 
things"? 

3.  What  is  the  first  thing  to  be  done  in  explaining  conception,  and 
why? 

4.  How  does  a  child  come  to  know  individual  persons  and  things  ? 

5.  State  and  explain  the  two  directions  in  which  the  class-image 
is  modified. 


QUESTIONS.  287 

6.  State  and  explain  the  three  processes  involved  in  conception. 

7.  What  is  the  difference  between  percept,  image,  and  concept  ? 

8.  In  what  two  ways  are  concepts  formed  ? 

9.  What  kind  of  concepts  has  a  child  when  he  first  starts  to 
school  ? 

i  o.   Upon  what  condition  does  the  formation  of  concepts  depend  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  At  what  age  do  children  generally  begin  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  numbers  ? 

2.  Why  is  it  desirable  to  use  a  variety  of  objects  —  sticks,  straws, 
grains  of  corn,  etc.  —  in  teaching  children  to  count? 

3.  Does  this  lesson  throw  any  light  on  the  question  as  to  the 
proper  age  for  taking  up  the  study  of  grammar  ? 


LESSON   XXXI. 

CONCEPTION. 
(Continued?) 

WE  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  involuntary  concepts  are 
almost  certain  to  be  indistinct  and  inaccurate,  and  that 
when  children  first  start  to  school,  unless  they  have  been 
carefully  instructed  at  home,  nearly  all  their  concepts  are 
of  this  kind.  They  have  observed  the  objects  they  see 
about  them  closely  enough  to  learn  their  names,  and  talk 
about  them  with  a  certain  degree  of  intelligence.  Because 
they  can  apply  their  names  correctly,  teachers  are  in  great 
danger  of  thinking  that  the  corresponding  concepts  are  all 
that  they  need  to  be.  But  that  is  a  mistake. 

Words  do  not  Convey  Thoughts.  —  "While  an  external 
object  may  be  viewed  by  thousands  in  common,"  said 
Professor  S.  S.  Green,  "  the  idea  or  image  of  it  addresses 
itself  only  to  the  individual  consciousness.  My  idea  or 
image  of  it  is  mine  alone  —  the  reward  of  careless  observa- 
tion, if  imperfect ;  of  attentive,  careful,  and  varied  obser- 
vation, if  correct.  Between  mine  and  yours  a  great  gulf 
is  fixed.  No  man  can  pass  from  mine  to  yours,  or  from 
yours  to  mine.  Neither  in  any  proper  sense  of  the  term 
can  mine  be  conveyed  to  you.  Words  do  not  convey 
thoughts ;  they  are  not  the  vehicles  of  thoughts  in  any 

288 


WHAT    LANGUAGE    DOES.  289 

true  sense  of  that  term.  A  word  is  simply  a  com- 
mon symbol  which'  each  associates  with  his  own  idea 
or  image. 

What  Language  Does.  —  "Neither  can  I  compare  mine 
with  yours  except  through  the  mediation  of  external  ob- 
jects. And  then  how  now  do  I  know  that  they  are  alike ; 
that  a  measure  called  a  foot,  for  instance,  seems  as  long  to 
you  as  to  me  ?  My  idea  of  a  new  object  which  you  and  I 
observe  together  may  be  very  imperfect.  By  it  I  may 
attribute  to  the  object  what  does  not  belong  to  it,  take 
from  it  what  does,  distort  its  form,  or  otherwise  pervert  it. 
Suppose,  now,  at  the  time  of  observation  we  agree  upon  a 
word  as  a  sign  or  symbol  for  the  object  or  the  idea  of  it. 
The  object  is  withdrawn  ;  the  idea  only  remains  —  imper- 
fect, in  my  case ;  complete  and  vivid  in  yours.  The  sign 
is  employed.  Does  it  bring  back  the  original  object  ?  By 
no  means.  Does  it  convey  my  idea  to  your  mind  ?  Nothing 
of  the  kind  ;  you  would  be  disgusted  with  the  shapeless 
image.  Does  it  convey  yours  to  me  ?  No ;  I  should  be 
delighted  at  the  sight.  What  does  it  effect  ?  It  becomes 
the  occasion  for  each  to  call  up  his  own  image.  Does 
each  now  contemplate  the  same  thing  ?  What  multitudes 
of  dissimilar  images  instantly  spring  up  at  the  announce- 
ment of  the  same  symbol!  —  dissimilar  not  because  of 
anything  in  the  one  source  whence  they  are  derived,  but 
because  of  either  an  inattentive  and  imperfect  observation 
of  that  source,  or  of  some  constitutional  or  habitual  defect 
in  the  use  of  the  perceptive  faculty." 

How  Inaccurate  Concepts  can  be  Made  Accurate. — 
What,  then,  can  we  do  to  make  these  involuntary,  and 


290  CONCEPTION. 

therefore  indistinct  and  inaccurate,  concepts  distinct 
and  accurate  ?  When  a  child  starts  to  school,  he  attaches 
a  meaning  to  near,  far,  narrow,  and  many  similar  words, 
but  his  concept  of  them  is  based  entirely  on  his  own 
observations,  and  is  therefore  very  inaccurate.  He  has 
heard  his  parents  talk  about  narrow  ribbons,  narrow  boards, 
and  the  like,  and  if  his  teacher,  without  further  illustration, 
tells  him  that  an  isthmus  is  a  narrow  neck  of  land,  he  will 
be  sure  to  misunderstand  her.  Shall  we  seek  to  make  his 
concepts  accurate  by  definitions  ?  No ;  for  he  can  not 
understand  our  definitions  unless  he  has  accurate  concepts 
corresponding  to  the  words  we  use.  We  must  get  him  to 
follow  the  path  that  leads  to  accurate  concepts ;  we  must 
get  him  to  compare  a  large  enough  variety  of  near  and 
narrow  objects  to  enable  him  to  apprehend  the  one  com- 
mon quality  that  such  objects  possess  —  we  must  get  him 
to  compare,  abstract,  and  generalize. 

Select  Particulars  Showing  the  Extreme  Varieties. — 
But  while  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  bring  the  mind  of  our 
pupil  into  contact  with  particulars  in  order  to  make  his 
concepts  accurate,  the  very  necessity  of  doing  it  shows  the 
need  of  exercising  care  as  to  the  kind  of  particulars  you 
select.  Why  is  a  child's  concept  of  narrow  inaccurate? 
Because  he  has  considered  only  certain  kinds  of  narrow 
things  —  narrow  ribbons,  narrow  paths,  narrow  planks,  and 
the  like.  A  young  man  told  me  that  until  he  was  eight 
years  old  he  thought  all  rivers  were  like  the  one  near  his 
home.  We  see,  therefore,  the  necessity  of  selecting  par- 
ticulars that  show  all  the  extreme  varieties?- 

1  See  Bain's  Education  as  a  Science,  p.  92. 


PROMINENCE   TO   THE    MAIN    IDEA.  291 

Those  that  Give  Prominence  to  the  Main  Idea. — 

Begin  also  with  particulars  that  give  prominence  to  the 
main  idea.  If  you  are  teaching  your  pupils  what  an  island 
is,  call  their  attention  first  to  an  island  far  from  the  main- 
land, in  order  that  the  characteristic  quality  of  an  island 
may  be  brought  out  prominently. 

Select  your  particulars  also  solely  with  reference  to  the 
end  in  view.  Do  not  select  such  as  have  an  interest  in 
themselves,  because  they  attract  the  attention  to  features 
that  are  not  included  in  the  concept  —  features,  therefore, 
that  you  wish  the  child  to  ignore. 

Finally,  stick  to  your  purpose  until  it  is  accomplished. 
Accumulate  particular  after  particular  until  the  desired 
concept  is  formed,  allowing  yourself  to  be  tempted  into 
no  digression  whatever.  Of  course  we  should  pursue  the 
same  method  in  developing  new  concepts. 

Two  Purposes  Served  by  Language.  —  But  in  most 
cases  our  pupils  have  no  names  for  the  new  concepts  we 
help  them  to  form  until  we  give  them.  When  should  we 
give  them  ?  Evidently  not  until  they  need  them.  Lan- 
guage serves  two  purposes.  In  the  first  place,  it  enables 
us  to  preserve  the  results  of  our  own  thinking.  When  we 
have  performed  these  processes  of  comparison,  abstraction, 
and  generalization  —  when  we  have  formed  a  concept  —  if 
we  did  not  give  it  a  name,  there  would  be  nothing  to  fix 
it  in  our  minds.  When  we  associate  a  name  with  the  con- 
cept, the  name  enables  us  to  recall  it  without  repeating 
the  processes  of  comparison,  abstraction,  and  generaliza- 
tion that  in  the  first  place  enabled  us  to  form  it.  But  we 
have  no  use  for  general  names  to  assist  us  in  fixing  con- 
cepts in  our  minds  until  we  have  formed  the  concepts  of 


:  ^2  CONCEPTION. 

which  they  are  names.  When  we  consider  die  other  use 
of  language,  we  are  led  to  the  same  conclusion.  The  other 
use  of  language,  of  course,  is  to  communicate  ideas.  As 
we  have  already  seen,  no  such  thing,  strictly  speaking,  is 
possible.  What  yon  do  when  yon  are  said  to  communicate 
ideas  is  to  occasion  your  hearer  or  reader  to  recall  ideas 
and  make  combinations  of  ideas  similar  to  those  in  your 
own  mind.  This  yon  are  able  to  do  by  using  a  sign  or 
symbol  with  which  he  has  associated  the  same  idea  yon 
hare  in  your  mind.  Evidently,  then,  language  can  not  be 
used  to  communicate  ideas,  or  rather  to  occasion  the  re- 
calling of  ideas,  until  yon  have  yourself  associated  a  sign 
or  symbol  with  the  idea  you  wish  recalled,  and  until  your 
hearer  has  formed  the  same  association. 

Hence  the  absurdity  of  teaching  words  without  ideas. 
Words  are  like  paper  money;  their  value  depends  on  what 
they  stand  for.  As  you  would  be  none  the  richer  for  pos- 
sessing Confederate  money  to  the  amount  of  a  million  of 
dollars,  so  your  pupils  would  be  none  the  wiser  for  being 
able  to  repeat  book  after  book  by  heart  unless  the  words 
were  the  signs  of  ideas  in  their  minds.  Words  •smtkout 
ideas  are  an  irredeemable  paper  currency. 

The  Blind  Use  of  Words  the  Fundamental  Error.  — 
It  is  the  practical  recognition  of  this  truth  that  has  revolu- 
tionized the  best  schools  of  the  country  in  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century.  Pestalozzi  well  called  the  blind  use  of  words 
in  matters  of  instruction  the  "fundamental  error/'  He 
was  not  the  first  educational  reformer  who  insisted  on 
h,  Montaigne,  Comenins,  Locke,  Rousseau,  had  all  in- 
sisted on  the  same  idea,  but  they  were  in  advance  of  then- 
time  ;  die  world  was  not  ready  to  listen  to  them.  But  in 


PESTALOZZI  S    REFORM.  293 

1 806,  after  Prussia  was  thoroughly  beaten  by  Napoleon  at 
the  battle  of  Jena ;  when  her  capital  city  was  in  the  hands 
of  her  conqueror,  and  she  lay  humiliated  at  his  feet,  it 
occurred  to  some  of  her  leading  men  that  the  regeneration 
of  the  nation  was  to  be  sought  in  education.  In  this 
way  it  happened  that  the  ideas  of  Pestalozzi  were  em- 
bodied in  the  schools  of  Germany,  whence  they  have 
gone  into  the  schools  of  every  civilized  country  in  the 
world.1 

Pestalozzi*  S  Reform.  —  In  what  did  the  reform  inau- 
gurated by  Pestalozzi  consist  ?  ///  the  substitution  of  the 
intelligent  for  the  blind  use  of  words.  He  reversed  the 
educational  engine.1  Before  his  time,  teachers  expected 
their  pupils  to  go  from  words  to  ideas  ;  he  taught  them  to 
go  from  ideas  to  words.  He  brought  out  the  fact  upon 
which  I  have  been  insisting  —  that  words  are  utterly 
powerless  to  create  ideas ;  that  all  they  can  do  is  to  help 
the  pupil  to  recall  and  combine  ideas  already  formed. 
With  Pestalozzi,  therefore,  and  with  those  who  have  been 
imbued  with  his  theories,  the  important  matter  is  the  form- 
ing of  clear  and  definite  ideas. 

1  It  is  to  me  a  very  interesting  fact  that  Pestalozzi  went  to  Paris  early 
in  this  century  in  order  to  try  to  induce  Napoleon  to  reform  the  educa- 
tional system  of  France  in  accordance  with  his  ideas.  Napoleon  said  he 
had  no  time  to  bother  his  head  with  questions  of  A  B  C.  Prussia  took 
the  time,  and  the  result  was  that  when  Prussia  and  France  met  again  on 
the  field  of  battle  nearly  seventy  years  later,  the  soldiers  of  Prussia, 
educated  in  accordance  with  Pestalozzi's  ideas,  completely  routed  the  armies 
of  France. 

*  When  I  wrote  this  sentence  I  did  not  know  that  Pestalozzi  had 
a  similar  illustration:  "The  public  common-school  coach  . 
simply  be  better  horsed,  ...  it  must  be  turned  round  and  brought  on  an 
entirely  new  road." 


294  CONCEPTION. 

Object  Lessons.  —  But  how  can  such  ideas  be  formed  ? 
By  comparison,  abstraction,  and  generalization,  and  by 
combining  concepts  so  formed  into  complex  concepts. 
That  is  why  Pestalozzian  teachers  have  made  so  much  use 
of  object  lessons.  Realizing  that  the  only  way  the  mind 
can  form  ideas  of  objects  is  by  comparing  them,  then  ab- 
stracting some  quality,  then  generalizing,  they  have  given 
systematic  courses  of  Object  Lessons  in  order  that  they 
might  develop  clear  and  definite  concepts  of  objects  in  the 
minds  of  their  pupils. 

But  systematic  object  teaching  is  not  the  only,  or  indeed 
the  chief,  way  of  teaching  in  harmony  with  this  law  of  the 
mind.  Object  teaching  —  bringing  the  mind  of  the  pupil 
into  direct  contact  with  the  object  out-of-doors,  if  possible, 
if  not,  in-doors  —  will  be  the  method  chiefly  employed  by 
intelligent  primary  teachers,  because  the  great  intellectual 
need  of  young  children  is  clear  and  definite  concepts  of 
objects.  Since  all  our  concepts  are  either  simple  or  com- 
plex, and  since,  of  course,  simple  concepts  must  precede 
complex  concepts,  evidently  the  first  step  in  education 
should  consist  in  furnishing  the  mind  with  a  stock  of 
simple  concepts.  And  since  the  mind  of  a  child  is  for  the 
most  part  employed  with  objects,  since  his  interests  lead 
him  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  external  world,  plainly 
the  thing  to  be  done  is  to  give  him  simple  concepts  of 
objects.  But  whatever  the  subject  of  thought,  in  order  to 
get  its  simple  concepts  the  mind  must  take  the  same  path, 
pursue  the  same  course,  compare,  abstract,  generalize. 

Objective  Method  of  Teaching.  — Whatever  the  nature 
of  the  facts  studied,  whether  objects  that  can  be  brought 
into  the  recitation  room,  or  those  that  are  physically  in- 


QUESTIONS.  295 

accessible,  or  facts  that  can  not  be  correctly  described  as 
objects,  such  as  the  facts  of  history,  mental  facts,  mathe- 
matical facts,  the  intelligent  teacher  will  lead  his  pupils  to 
begin  with  an  examination  and  comparison  of  them,  then 
go  on  to  note  their  resemblances  and  differences,  then  to 
make  generalizations,  unless  he  is  sure  that  they  have  a 
stock  of  perfectly  definite,  simple  concepts,  by  the  com- 
bination of  which  they  can  form  the  complex  concepts  he 
desires.  Such  a  method  of  teaching  has  well  been  called 
the  Objective  Method  or  Objective  Teaching,  since  it 
is  an  application  of  the  method  of  teaching  by  Object 
Lessons  to  every  department  of  instruction. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  two  preceding  lessons. 

2.  What  are  the  two  uses  of  language  ? 

3.  In  what  sense  can  we  communicate  ideas  ? 

4.  How  can  we  make  indistinct  and  inaccurate  concepts  distinct 
and  accurate? 

5.  What  kind  of  particulars  should  we  select,  and  why? 

6.  In  what  did  the  reform  inaugurated  by  Pestalozzi  consist? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  between  object  and  objective  teaching? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  is  the  difference  between  simple  and  complex  concepts? 

2.  Strictly  speaking,  can  we  have  simple  concepts  of  objects  ? 

3.  Mention  as  many  distinct  and  accurate  concepts  that  a  child 
of  six  is  likely  to  have,  as  you  can  think  of. 

4.  What  differences  would  you  expect  to  find  between  the  con- 
cepts of  a  child  who  has  lived  in  the  country,  and  those  of  a  child 
who  has  lived  in  a  city  ? 

5.  Talk  with  a  child  of  six  and  endeavor  to  ascertain  his  concept 
of  sky,  star,  sun,  moon,  and  other  objects  inaccessible  to  him,  that  he 
hears  mentioned  in  daily  conversation. 


LESSON    XXXII. 

P 

CONCEPTION. 

(Continued.} 

What  the  Objective  Method  Is. — The  great  importance 
of  the  Objective  Method  of  teaching  inclines  me  to  think 
that  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  spend  a  little  more  time  in 
making  an  effort  to  get  a  thorough  comprehension  of  it  — 
such  a  comprehension  as  will  enable  us  to  use  it  from  day 
to  day.  To  this  end,  I  venture  to  quote  further  from 
Professor  S.  S.  Green.  "  The  Objective  Method,"  he  says, 
"is  that  which  takes  into  account  the  whole  realm  of 
Nature  and  Art  so  far  as  the  child  has  examined  it, 
assumes  as  known  only  what  the  child  knows  —  not 
what  the  teacher  knows  —  and  works  from  the  well  known 
to  the  obscurely  known,  and  so  onward  and  upward  until 
the  learner  can  enter  the  fields  of  science  or  abstract 
thought.  It  is  that  which  develops  the  abstract  from  the 
concrete  —  which  develops  the  idea,  then  gives  the  term. 
It  is  that  which  appeals  to  the.  intelligence  of  the  child, 
and  that  through  the  senses  until  clear  and  vivid  concepts 
are  formed,  and  then  uses  these  concepts  as  something 
real  and  vital.  It  is  that  which  follows  Nature's  order  — 
the  thing,  the  concept,  the  word  ;  so  that  when  this  order 
is  reversed  —  the  word,  the  concept,  the  thing  —  the 
chain  of  connection  shall  not  be  broken.  The  word  shall 
instantly  occasion  the  concept,  and  the  concept  shall  be 

296 


THE    OBJECTIVE    METHOD    ILLUSTRATED.        297 

accompanied  with  the  firm  conviction  of  a  corresponding 
external  reality.  It  is  that  which  insists  upon  something 
besides  mere  empty  verbal  expressions  in  every  school 
exercise  —  in  other  words,  expression  and  thought  in  place 
of  expression  and  no  thought. 

"  It  is  that  which  makes  the  school  a  place  where  the 
child  comes  in  contact  with  realities  just  such  as  appeal 
to  his  common  sense,  as  when  he  roamed  at  pleasure  in 
the  fields,  and  not  a  place  for  irksome  idleness.  It  is  that 
which  relieves  a  child's  task  only  by  making  it  intelligible 
and  possible,  not  by  taking  the  burden  from  him.  It  bids 
him  examine  for  himself,  discriminate  for  himself,  and 
express  for  himself  —  the  teacher,  the  while,  standing  by 
to  give  hints  and  suggestions,  not  to  relieve  the  labor.  In 
short,  it  is  that  which  addresses  itself  directly  to  the  eye 
external  or  internal,  which  summons  to  its  aid  things 
present  or  things  absent,  things  past  or  things  to  come, 
and  bids  them  yield  the  lessons  which  they  infold  —  which 
deals  with  actual  existence  and  not  with  empty  dreams  — 
a  living  realism  and  not  a  fossil  dogmatism. 

The  Objective  Method  Illustrated.  —  "It  will  aid  any 
teacher  in  correcting  dogmatic  tendencies  by  enlivening 
his  lessons  and  giving  zest  to  his  instructions.  He  will 
draw  from  the  heavens  above  and  from  the  earth  beneath, 
or  from  the  waters  under  the  earth,  from  the  world  with- 
out and  the  world  within.  He  will  not  measure  his  lessons 
by  pages,  nor  progress  by  fluency  of  utterance.  He  will 
dwell  in  living  thought,  surrounded  by  living  thinkers, 
leaving  at  every  point  the  impress  of  an  objective  and  a 
subjective  reality.  To  him,  an  exercise  in  geography  will 
not  be  a  stupid  verbatim  recitation  of  descriptive  para- 


298  CONCEPTION. 

graphs,  but  a  stretching  out  of  the  mental  vision  to  see  in 
living  picture,  ocean  and  continent,  mountain  and  valley, 
river  and  lake,  not  on  a  level  plain,  but  rounded  up  to  con- 
form to  the  curvature  of  a  vast  globe.  The  description  of 
a  prairie  on  fire,  by  the  aid  of  the  imagination,  will  be 
wrought  up  into  a  brilliant  object  lesson.  A  reading-lesson 
descriptive  of  a  thunder-storm  on  Mt.  Washington  will  be 
something  more  than  a  mere  conformity  to  the  rules  of 
the  elocutionist.  It  will  be  accompanied  by  a  concept 
wrought  into  the  child's  mind,  outstripped  in  grandeur 
only  by  the  scene  itself.  The  mind's  eye  will  see  the  old 
mountain  itself  with  its  surroundings  of  gorge  and  cliff,  of 
wood-land  and  barren  rock,  of  deep  ravine  and  craggy 
peak.  It  will  see  the  majestic  thunder-cloud  moving  up, 
with  its  snow-white  summits  resting  on  wall  as  black  as 
midnight  darkness.  The  ear  will  almost  hear  the  peals  of 
muttering  thunder  as  they  reverberate  from  hill  to  hill." 

This  long  extract  is  worth  all  the  study  we  can  find 
time  to  put  into  it.  The  thorough  comprehension  and  the 
practical  appreciation  of  it  will  revolutionize  our  methods 
of  teaching  as  completely  as  have  been  the  methods  of 
teaching  in  the  best  schools  of  the  country  in  the  last 
twenty-five  years.  But  there  are  two  or  three  sentences 
in  it  that  are  especially  worthy  of  attention.  Professor 
Green  says  that  the  Objective  Method  appeals  to  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  child  through  the  senses  until  clear  and 
vivid  concepts  are  formed,  and  tJien  rises  these  concepts 
as  something  real  and  vital.  What  does  he  mean  ? 

Real  and  Vital  Concepts.  —  I  said  in  the  last  lesson 
that  whatever  the  nature  of  the  facts  studied,  whether 
objects  that  can  be  brought  into  the  recitation  room,  such 


REAL  AND   VITAL   CONCEPTS.  299 

as  coal,  glass,  water,  and  the  like,  or  those  that  are  phys- 
ically inaccessible,  such  as  are  studied  in  geography  or 
astronomy,  or  facts  which  can  not  be  correctly  described 
as  objects,  such  as  mental  facts,  historical  facts,  and  the 
like,  the  Objective  Method  of  teaching  leads  the  pupil  to 
begin  with  an  examination  of  the  facts  ;  instead  of  begin- 
ning with  inferences  about  the  facts,  it  puts  the  pupil  face 
to  face  with  the  facts,  and  leads  him  to  make  his  own  in- 
ferences. How  is  that  possible  when  we  are  not  dealing 
with  objects  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  pupil  ? 

When  we  are  dealing  with  facts  or  objects  that  our 
pupils  can  not  observe  for  themselves,  we  must  develop  in 
their  minds,  as  nearly  as  we  can,  the  same  vivid  ideas  that 
would  result  from  a  careful  observation  of  the  reality. 
That  is  what  Professor  Green  means  in  the  sentence  to 
which  I  have  called  your  attention.  A  concept  so  vivid  as 
to  be  something  real  and  vital,  is  a  concept  that  can  be 
used  in  forming  complex  concepts  of  things  only  a  little 
less  vivid  than  would  result  from  a  first-hand  observation 
of  the  reality.  He  means  the  same  thing  when  he  says 
that  the  Objective  Method  takes  into  account  the  whole 
realm  of  Nature  and  Art  so  far  as  the  child  has  examined 
it ;  assumes  as  known  only  what  the  child  knows  —  not 
what  the  teacher  knows.  For  so  long  as  the  teacher  keeps 
within  the  range  of  the  child's  knowledge,  the  teacher 
presents  simple  concepts  that  the  child  can  combine  into 
complex  concepts,  which  enable  him  clearly  and  vividly  to 
realize  facts  and  realities  which  are  beyond  the  range  of 
his  observation,  but  which  he  can  use  in  comparing,  ab- 
stracting, and  generalizing,  as  though  he  had  seen  them 
for  himself. 

When  Professor  Green  says  that  the  Objective  Method 


300  CONCEPTION. 

addresses  itself  to  the  eye,  external  or  internal,  he  means 
to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  there  are  realities  which 
can  not  be  cognized  by  the  senses,  such  as  mental  facts, 
but  which,  nevertheless,  are  to  be  studied  in  the  same 
way. 

First  the  Reality  and  then  the  Play  of  the  Mind 
about  the  Reality.  —  This  lesson  enables  us  to  see  that 
one  of  the  favorite  doctrines  of  current  pedagogy  —  first 
the  idea,  then  the  word  —  is  inaccurate.  In  primary  in- 
struction it  does  indeed  state  with  great  accuracy  the 
proper  method  of  proceeding  for  the  most  part.  But  even 
here  the  teacher  must  sometimes  violate  it.  No  primary 
teacher  can  always  confine  himself  to  objects  that  have 
sometimes  been  within  the  range  of  the  pupil's  observa- 
tion. He  must  sometimes  take  concepts  formed  from 
actual  observation  and  build  out  of  them  concepts  of  real- 
ities that  the  pupil  has  never  seen.  A  more  accurate 
statement  is,  first  the  reality  —  the  thing  you  wish  your 
pupil  to  study  —  then  the  play  of  the  mind  about  the 
reality.  I  use  the  somewhat  indefinite  phrase,  "  play  of  the 
mind,"  because  a  more  definite  expression  would  not  be 
sufficiently  comprehensive.  In  some  cases,  what  you  want 
from  your  pupils  is  not  primarily  intellectual  action,  or 
action  of  the  knowing  side  of  the  mind  at  all.  You  wish 
to  bring  their  minds  face  to  face  with  a  certain  reality 
in  order  to  excite  the  appropriate  feelings.  That,  for 
instance,  would  be  your  object  in  teaching  such  a  reading- 
lesson  as  the  one  described  by  Professor  Green.  The 
same  is  true,  for  the  most  part,  in  all  teaching  of  litera- 
ture. You  wish  to  get  the  thoughts  and  sentiments  of 
the  piece  in  the  minds  of  your  pupils  in  order  that  they 


REALITY  AND   PLAY  OF  MIND   ON   REALITY.       30! 

may  have  the  proper  feelings  —  appreciation,  admiration, 
and  the  like.     In   such  cases  in  the  maxim  :    First  the 
reality,  and  then  the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality  — 
"the  play  of  the  mind"  means,  for. the  most  part,  a  certain 
activity  of  the  emotional  side  of  the  mind. 

But  even  when  the  play  of  the  mind  you  seek  to  occa- 
sion is  a  certain  activity  of  the  intellect,  the  kinds  of  intel- 
lectual activity  that  the  Objective  Method  aims  at  are  so 
different  in  different  circumstances  that  any  very  definite 
term  will  not  accurately  describe  them.  The  play  of  the 
mind  desired  may  be  the  formation  of  a  concept  —  say  the 
concept  of  roundness.  In  that  case  the  reality  consists  of 
round  objects.  You  call  the  attention  of  the  child  to 
round  objects  in  order  that  he  may  fix  his  attention  upon 
their  shape,  neglecting  all  their  other  qualities.  Or  the 
play  of  the  mind  desired  may  be  the  making  of  a  definition 
—  say  a  definition  of  roundness.  Here  the  reality  is  his 
own  concept  of  roundness  ;  the  play  of  the  mind  desired  is 
the  accurate  description  of  that  concept.  Or  the  play 
of  the  mind  wanted  may  be  a  description  of  a  process  — 
say  the  formulation  of  a  rule  in  arithmetic.  Here  there 
are  two  sets  of  realities  :  (i)  The  conditions  stated  in  the 
problem.  You  bring  them  clearly  before  his  mind,  in 
order  that  he  may  see  for  himself  the  path  he  must  take 
in  order  to  reach  the  solution.  (2)  Having  solved  the 
problem,  you  want  him  to  describe  the  process,  and  this 
is  the  second  reality.  You  want  him  to  fix  his  mind  upon 
it  so  attentively  that  he  can  give  an  accurate  description 
of  it. 

In  the  following  example  the  play  of  the  mind  desired 
is  an  inference  from  a  fact.  Your  class  learns  from  you 
or  a  book  —  so  far  as  the  Objective  Method  is  concerned 


302  CONCEPTION. 

it  makes  no  difference  which  —  that  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States  forbade  Congress  to  pass  any  law  pro- 
hibiting the  importation  of  slaves  prior  to  1808,  and  then 
that  Congress  passed  such  laws  in  1 808  —  just  as  soon  as 
the  Constitution  made  it  possible  for  them  to  do  it  — 
unanimously.  You  ask  your  class  what  they  infer  from 
that.  They  will  be  likely  to  say  that  it  indicates  that 
Congress  wanted  to  do  all  it  could  to  limit  slavery.  With- 
out saying  whether  they  are  mistaken  or  not,  you  go  on 
and  tell  them  of  the  penalty  Congress  affixed  to  the  viola- 
tion of  the  law,  and  then  call  their  attention  to  the  fact 
that,  although  the  law  was  constantly  violated  and  every- 
body knew  it,  this  penalty  was  very  rarely  inflicted,  and 
then  ask  what  that  signifies.  Here  the  reality  is  an 
historical  fact,  and  the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality 
that  you  are  seeking  to  occasion  is  an  inference  based  on 
the  reality. 

Why  we  may  Fail  to  Apply  the  Objective  Method.  — 

If  we  have  the  clearest  possible  comprehension  of  the 
Objective  Method,  we  may  faiHn  our  attempts  to  apply  it, 
because  we  try  to  bring  the  minds  of  our  pupils  into  con- 
tact with  realities  which  they  can  not  comprehend  —  try, 
in  other  words,  to  bring  their  minds  into  contact  with 
realities  with  which  they  can  not  be  brought  into  contact 
in  their  state  of  development.  You  could  not  give  a  blind 
boy  an  object  lesson  based  on  the  sense  of  sight.  No 
more  can  you  intelligently  use  the  Objective  Method  when 
the  realities  are  beyond  the  range  of  your  pupil's  com- 
prehension. And  here  we  see  another  reason  for  making 
a  careful  study  of  our  pupils  :  that  we  may  learn  what 
realities  they  can  comprehend. 


HERBARTIAN    STEPS.  303 

The  Objective  Method  and  the  Herbartian  Steps.  - 

You  have  doubtless  noticed  the  resemblance  between  the 
Objective  Method,  as  I  have  here  denned  it,  and  the  essen- 
tial steps  or  stages  in  method  as  the  Herbartians  define 
them.  But  while  they  make  four  and  sometimes  five  steps, 
I  have  noted  but  two.  As  will  appear  in  the  discussion 
of  apperception,  I  agree  with  them  in  thinking  a  stage  of 
"preparation"  important.  It  is,  as  I  shall  endeavor  to 
show,  a  very  helpful  means  of  getting'  "  reality "  before 
the  mind  of  the  pupil.  Dr.  Garmo's  term,  "generaliza- 
tion," to  denote  what  I  have  called  "play  of  the  mind," 
I  object  to,  because  it  seems  to  imply  that  the  action  of 
your  pupil's  mind  which  you  wish  to  occasion  is  in  all 
cases  intellectual,  which  is  certainly  not  the  case.  I  omit 
their  final  stage,  application,  not  because  it  is  not  im- 
portant, when  it  can  be  taken,  biit  in  many  cases  it  can 
not  be  taken.  Can  you  apply  a  feeling  of  admiration  or 
appreciation  as  you  can  a  definition,  or  a  law  or  a  principle 
to  the  cases  that  come  under  it  ?  To  illustrate :  Take 
any  poem,  say,  Gray's  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard. 
Why  will  you  teach  it  ?  Dp  you  want  your  pupils  to  infer 
from  it  some  law  or  general  principle  which  they  can  apply 
to  their  own  observations  and  experiences  ?  Or  do  you 
want  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  the  poet  thought 
and  felt  to  pass  through  their  minds,  in  order  that  they 
may  feel  their  beauty  ?  The  latter,  I  am  sure,  and  such  a 
feeling  can  not  be  applied.  The  very  idea  is  absurd.1 

i  It  doubtless  has  not  escaped  the  attention  of  my  careful  readers  that 
the  Objective  Method  is  based  in  part  on  laws  of  the  mind  which  we  have 
not  yet  considered.  Those  laws,  however,  are  so  generally  known  that  I 
thought  it  would  conduce  to  clearness  to  assume  that  they  would  be 
known,  and  discuss  the  Objective  Method  in  connection  with  object 
teaching,  which  is  but  a  single  application  of  it. 


304  CONCEPTION. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE   TEXT. 

1.  Give  a  general  description  of  the  Objective  Method. 

2.  What  does  Professor  Green  mean  by  "real  and  vital  concepts  "  ? 

3.  Illustrate  at  length  the  formula,  "first  the  reality,  and   then 
the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality." 

4.  For  what  formula  is  it  proposed  as  a  substitute,  and  why  ? 

5.  Why   may  we  fail  in   our  attempts  to  apply  the  Objective 
Method  ? 

6.  Illustrate  your  answer  from  your  own  experience. 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Is  there  any  contradiction  between  the  quotation  made  from 
Professor  Green  in  this  lesson  and  the  one  in  the  last  ? 

2.  Take  any  poem  in  your  reading-books,  and   decide  to  what 
extent  the  fourth  of  the  Herbartian  steps  should  be  taken. 


LESSON    XXXIII. 

JUDGMENT. 

Summary  of  Mental  Steps  up  to  the  Formation  of 
Concepts.  —  We  have  seen  that  our  mental  life  begins 
with  undifferentiated  sensations ;  that  the  first  step  towards 
knowledge  consists  in  their  gradual  transformation  into  defi- 
nite sensations;  that  while  they  are  thus  being  made  definite 
they  begin  to  be  localized  ;  that  before  they  are  definitely 
localized  they  begin  to  be  gathered  together  in  groups  and 
thought  of  as  qualities  of  objects ;  that  in  the  first  stage 
of  the  perception  of  objects,  only  their  prominent,  salient 
features  —  those  in  which  small  classes  resemble  each 
other  —  are  perceived,  and  that,  therefore,  individuals  are 
confused  with  each  other,  not  perceived  as  individuals ; 
that  the  state  of  mind  that  results  from  the  confusion  of 
individuals  —  the  class-image  —  gradually  changes  into  two 
very  unlike  things,  a  percept  and  a  concept ;  that,  on  the 
one  hand,  it  becomes  a  percept  through  the  definite  per- 
ception of  differences  ;  on  the  other,  a  concept  through 
the  perception  of  resemblances  between  individuals  per- 
ceived to  be  individual. 

Through  the  greater  part  of  these  experiences  the  mind 
has  been  active  in  a  way  to  which,  so  far,  we  have  paid 
no  attention.  When  we  study  so  complex  a  thing  as  the 
human  mind,  we  have  to  study  its  various  phases  or  activi- 

305 


306  JUDGMENT. 

ties  in  succession  ;  but  we  must  remember  that  what  we 
study  successively  exists  contemporaneously. 

Act  of  Judgment  Illustrated.  —  We  shall  get  a  clearer 
idea  of  the  activity  of  which  I  speak  if  we  consider  it  first 
in  a  simple  and  very  common  form.  I  see  a  man  coming 
down  the  street.  At  first  I  am  uncertain  whether  it  is 
John  Smith  or  his  brother.  But  as  I  look  at  him  closely 
I  notice  a  scar  on  his  right  cheek,  just  under  his  eye,  and 
then  I  remember  that  John  Smith  once  received  a  severe 
wound  there.  Immediately  my  mind  passes  from  its  state 
of  doubt  into  a  state  of  certainty;  I  say,  That  man  is 
John  Smith. 

We  may  then  denote  the  activity  which  we  wish  to 
study  in  a  similar  manner  to  that  in  which  we  denoted  the 
activity  of  conception.  As  we  said  that  conception  is 
the  activity  of  the  mind  that  enables  us  to  use  general 
names  intelligently,  so  we  may  say  that  judgment  is  the 
activity  of  the  mind  which  is  expressed  in  propositions. 

Judgment  is  Sometimes  Made  Possible  by  the  Laws 
of  Association.  —  Manifestly  such  an  act  of  the  mind  is 
rendered  possible  by  the  laws  of  association.  Through  the 
laws  of  association  I  thought  of  the  name  of  John  Smith 
and  of  his  brother.  But  there  is  a  wide  difference  between 
the  final  act  of  my  mind  and  the  simple  result  of  the  laws 
of  association  As  long  as  my  mental  state  is  due  entirely 
to  the  laws  of  association,  I  have  a  percept  and  two  images 
in  mind  —  the  percept  of  the  man  before  me,  and  the 
images  of  John  Smith  and  his  brother ;  but  when  I  see 
the  scar  —  when  I  am  no  longer  in  doubt  —  the  percept 
and  the  image  of  John  Smith  are  fused  into  one,  and, 


WHY   THE  JUDGMENT   WAS    CONSCIOUS.  307 

expressing  this,  I  say,  This  man  is  John  Smith.  Such  a 
mental  act  is  called  a  judgment,  and  the  words  in  which 
we  express  it  are  called  a  proposition. 

Why  the  Judgment  was  Conscious.  —  If  I  had  known 
the  man  was  John  Smith  as  soon  as  I  saw  him,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  there  would  have  been  no  conscious  assertion 
expressed,  or  capable  of  being  expressed,  by  the  words, 
That  man  is  John  Smith.  There  was  a  conscious  asser- 
tion, because  there  was,  so  to  speak,  a  vacillation  on  the 
part  of  my  percept.  It  stood  midway  between  my  image 
of  John  Smith  and  my  image  of  his  brother.  Because  I 
was  conscious  of  this  vacillation,  I  was  conscious  of  my 
uncertainty,  or  rather  in  this  vacillation  my  uncertainty 
consisted.  But  if,  as  soon  as  I  had  seen  John  Smith,  the 
image  of  him  as  seen  before  had  coalesced  or  fused  with 
my  percept,  the  act  would  have  been  so  automatic  that  I 
should  not  have  been  conscious  of  it. 

You  can  prove  the  truth  of  this  by  your  own  experience. 
As  you  went  to  school  this  morning,  did  you  say  or  think 
to  yourself,  That  is  a  tree,  That  is  a  house,  That  is  a  cow, 
as  you  passed  these  several  objects  ?  No,  you  merely 
recognized  them  —  knew  them  directly  —  and  were  con- 
scious of  no  mental  assertion  whatever.  But  suppose  the 
cow  had  been  wrapped  in  a  buffalo  robe,  so  as  to  look 
unlike  any  animal  you  had  ever  seen  before.  At  a  first 
glance  you  would  not  have  recognized  it.  There  would 
have  been  the  same  vacillation  between  your  percept  and 
the  competing  images  that  we  have  already  observed  in 
my  experience.  But  when  you  had  seen  through  the  dis- 
guise, all  but  one  of  the  competing  images  would  have 
vanished ;  you  would  have  performed  a  conscious  mental 


308  JUDGMENT. 

act  that  can  only  be  described  by  a  proposition  —  That  is 
a  cow. 

When  Conscious  Judgments  First  Appear.  —  We  can 

now  see  at  what  point  in  our  mental  life  this  conscious  act 
first  appeared.  We  have  seen  that  a  complete  act  of 
memory  consists  of  retention,  reproduction,  recognition, 
and  localization,  and  that  memory  begins  to  develop  before 
imagination.  Evidently,  therefore,  the  mind  recognizes 
things  before  it  forms  images  of  them  when  they  are 
absent.  Now  this  conscious  act,  which  we  have  called 
judgment,  first  appears  when  there  is  an  object  before  the 
mind  of  which  it  has  a  percept,  and  when  the  mind  is 
uncertain  to  which  of  two  images  to  refer  it.  If  a  child, 
familiar  with  oranges,  sees  a  lemon  for  the  first  time,  he 
at  once  classes  it  as  an  orange  because  of  their  likeness  — 
there  is  no  conscious  act  of  judgment.  But  if  he  is  familiar 
with  both  and  the  names  of  both,  when  he  sees  an  orange 
at  a  little  distance,  by  the  law  of  association  by  similarity 
he  may  think  of  both  an  orange  and  a  lemon  —  the  image 
of  both  may  arise  in  his  mind  —  and  his  percept  may 
vacillate  between  the  two.  When  he  gets  nearer,  and 
notices  the  peculiar  shape  and  color  of  the  object,  he  says, 
That  is  an  orange.  Evidently  such  a  conscious  act  is  not 
possible  until  the  imagination  is  so  far  developed  that  two 
or  more  images  arise  in  the  mind  in  connection  with  the 
same  percept,  which  the  mind  is  not  able  to  refer  to 
either. 

What  Judgments  Relate  to.  —  If  we  examine  the  three 
judgments  we  have  considered  —  expressed  in  the  proposi- 
tions, That  is  John  Smith,  That  is  a  cow,  That  is  an 


DIFFERENT   KINDS    OF   REALITY.  309 

orange  —  we  shall  see  that  they  consist  in  the  fusion  or 
coalescence  of  two  states  of  consciousness  —  a  percept  and 
an  image  in  the  first,  a  percept  and  a  concept  in  the 
second  and  third.  We  need  to  note  (i)  that  this  fusion  or 
coalescence  is  the  way  our  thoughts  sometimes  behave 
when  we  pass  from  a  state  of  doubt  to  a  state  of  belief ; 
(2)  that  although  it  is  thoughts  or  states  of  consciousness 
that  coalesce,  the  belief  does  not  relate  to  states  of  con- 
sciousness, but  to  some  kind  of  reality}-  We  do  not  say, 
"  My  percept  of  that  object  fuses  with  my  idea  of  John 
Smith  " ;  nor,  "  My  percept  of  that  object  fuses  with  my 
concept  of  cow";  nor,  "My  percept  of  that  object  fuses 
with  my  concept  of  orange."  Though  beliefs  or  judgments 
are  rendered  possible  by  states  of  consciousness,  and  though 
we  may  describe  the  states  of  consciousness  in  which  judg- 
ments or  beliefs  consist,  judgments  do  not,  as  a  rule,  relate 
to  states  of  consciousness,  but  always  to  some  kind  of 
reality. 

Different  Kinds  of  Reality  Asserted.  —  The  reality 
may  be  the  reality  of  external  nature,  as  when  I  say,  That 
is  an  orange.  Or  the  reality  of  literature.  Thousands  of 
books  have  been  written  upon  the  question  of  Hamlet's 
insanity.  If  I  say  he  was  insane,  my  proposition  expresses 
a  belief  about  a  reality  in  literature.  Or  the  reality  of 
mythology.  A  student  of  the  classics,  on  the  way  to 
recitation,  is  running  over  his  lesson  in  his  mind.  He  asks 
himself,  How  did  Minerva  originate?  He  is  in  doubt. 
Suddenly  something  brings  the  forgotten  fact  to  his  mind. 
He  remembers  that  she  sprang  from  the  head  of  Jupiter. 
His  memory  is  an  assertion  of  a  reality  in  mythology.  Or 

1  See  Baldwin's  Psychology,  p.  286. 


3IO  JUDGMENT. 

it  may  be  a  reality  of  mental  facts.  I  say,  The  concept 
man  and  the  concept  rational  animal  are  one  and  the  same. 
Here  the  reality  asserted  is  a  certain  relation  between 
mental  facts. 

Nature  of  Act  of  Judgment.  —  If  we  examine  what 
takes  place  in  our  minds  when  we  perform  the  judgment 
expressed  by  the  proposition,  Minerva  sprang  from  the 
head  of  Jove,  we  shall  see  that  there  is  no  such  fusion  or 
coalescence  between  the  thoughts  that  stand  for  the  sub- 
ject and  predicate  as  takes  place  when  we  judge  That  is 
John  Smith.  The  reason  plainly  is  because  of  the  dif- 
ference in  the  things  asserted.  In  the  last  case  we  assert 
identity.  I  see  that  the  individual  before  me  has  all  the 
characteristics  of  John  Smith,  because  he  is  John  Smith. 
In  the  first,  we  make  an  assertion  about  the  origin  of 
Minerva ;  we  say  not  that  she  is,  but  that  she  sprang  from, 
the  head  of  Jove.  So  when  I  say,  I  dreamed  last  night, 
I  make  a  still  different  assertion  —  I  assert  a  different 
kind  of  fact.  But  no  matter  what  we  assert,  we  shall  find, 
in  the  period  of  doubt  that  preceded  the  assertion,  no  fixed 
relations  between  the  thoughts  or  concepts  or  states  of 
mind  that  represent  the  various  parts  of  the  proposition 
that  we  finally  assert.  "  I  don't  know  whether  that  is 
John  Smith  or  his  brother."  As  long  as  I  am  in  un- 
certainty, my  percept  tends  now  towards  the  image  of 
John  Smith,  now  towards  that  of  his  brother,  according  to 
my  estimate  of  probabilities.  When  I  pass  from  a  state 
of  doubt  to  a  state  of  certainty,  my  percept  assumes  a 
definite  and  fixed  relation  towards  the  image  of  John  Smith. 
"I  don't  remember  whether  Minerva  sprang  from  the  head 
of  Jupiter  or  the  head  of  Apollo."  Here  again  there  is 


QUESTIONS.  311 

the  same  lack  of  definiteness  and  fixedness  in  the  relations 
between  the  thoughts  expressed  by  Minerva,  sprang  from, 
head  of  Jupiter,  head  of  Apollo.  But  when  I  say:  "I  re- 
member now  —  she  sprang  from  the  head  of  Jupiter,"  this 
lack  of  definiteness  disappears ;  they  are  transformed  into 
a  new  whole,  or  rather  the  first  three  are,  each  of  them 
sustaining  a  definite  and  fixed  relation  towards  the  rest  — 
a  relation  which  they  resume  whenever  I  think  of  them, 
unless  my  belief  changes. 

Judgment  Defined.  —  We  see,  then,  not  only  that  a 
judgment  is  that  act  of  the  mind  which  is  expressed  in  a 
proposition,  but  we  see  what  the  act  is.  It  is  the  mental 
assertion  of  some  kind  of  reality  —  the  transformation  or 
relating  of  separate  units  or  elements  of  thought  into  one 
whole,  in  which  each  sustains  definite  and  fixed  relations 
to  the  rest. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  State  and  illustrate  what  judgment  is. 

2.  When  do  we  make  unconscious  assertions,  and  why  ? 

3.  Under   what  circumstances   do  these  unconscious  assertions 
become  conscious? 

4.  State  and  illustrate  the  various  kinds  of  reality  to  which  our 
judgments  refer. 

5.  State  and  illustrate  the  difference  (i)  between  the  mere  associa- 
tion of  ideas  and  judgment,  (2)  between  doubt  and  belief. 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  State  the  various  causes  to  which,  in  your  opinion,  judgments 
are  due. 

2.  Show  that  judgments  could  never  have  originated  from  the 
mere  association  of  ideas. 


LESSON    XXXIV. 

JUDGMENT. 
(Continued?) 

Difference  between  Association  of  Ideas  and  Judg- 
ment.—  I  said  in  the  last  lesson  that  there  is  a  wide 
difference  between  the  mere  association  of  ideas  and  judg- 
ment. There  is  hardly  an  assertion  in  this  book  which  it 
is  of  greater  importance  for  you  to  verify  at  great  length 
by  a  study  of  your  own  experience  than  this.  Take 
proposition  after  proposition  and  make  clear  to  yourself 
the  difference  between  merely  associating  the  subject  and 
predicate  in  your  mind,  and  thinking  them  in  the  relation 
of  a  judgment. 

Suppose,  for  example,  you  should  have  a  conversation 
with  a  man  from  the  moon,  and  should  explain  to  him  the 
meaning  of  water,  quench,  and  thirst,  without  showing 
him  the  relations  which  these  facts  actually  bear  to  each 
other.  When  he  thinks  of  the  three  at  the  same  time, 
they  have  only  a  mechanical  connection  in  his  mind  —  the 
same  kind  of  connection  that  exists  in  the  mind  of  a  child 
between  the  thought  of  a  Chinaman  and  the  thought  of  a 
steam-engine  when  the  child  thinks  of  the  two  at  the  same, 
time  because  he  first  saw  them  together.  But  when  you 
think  of  them  together,  you  assert  a  real  relation  between 
the  facts  water  and  thirst — they  are  no  longer  mechani- 

312 


ESSENCE    OF  AN  ACT   OF  JUDGMENT.  313 

cally  juxtaposed,  but  parts  of  one  logical  whole,  you  think 
them  in  the  relation  of  a  judgment. 

Take  also  the  proposition, "  Napoleon  conquered  Europe." 
Do  you  not  see  the  difference  between  merely  thinking 
about  "Napoleon,"  "conquered,"  and  "Europe"  at  the 
same  time,  and  thinking  the  judgment,  "  Napoleon  con- 
quered Europe "  ?  The  first  might  be  possible  through 
the  association  of  ideas  alone. 

Essence  of  an  Act  of  Judgment.  —  There  is  a  conscious 
mental  assertion  only  when  this  act  of  logical  relating  for 
some  reason  becomes  a  matter  of  attention.  You  say, 
That  is  a  cow,  only  after  you  have  been  in  doubt  as  to 
what  animal  you  are  looking  at,  or  when  you  see  it  in  some 
unexpected  place,  as  in  a  public  park.  Some  psychologists 
confine  the  term  judgment  to  these  conscious  assertions  of 
the  mind.  Assertions  made  unconsciously  they  refuse  to 
call  judgments,  simply  because  they  are  made  uncon- 
sciously. But  assuredly  those  psychologists  take  the 
sounder  position  who  hold  that  whenever  thoughts  assume 
that  fixed  and  definite  relation  we  have  seen  they  have  in 
a  judgment,  whenever  they  become  parts  of  a  logical 
whole,  there  is  an  act  of  judgment,  whether  the  act  is 
co'nscious  or  not.  The  essence  of  an  act  of  judgment  con- 
sists in  this  logical  relating  of  thoughts.  To  refuse  to 
call  it  a  judgment  because  it  takes  place  so  rapidly  and 
unobtrusively  as  to  escape  the  eye  of  consciousness  is  to 
use  language  in  a  way  that  does  not  conduce  to  clearness 
of  thinking. 

Implicit  and  Explicit  Judgments.  —  We  may,  indeed, 
properly  enough  mark  the  distinction  between  them  by 


314  JUDGMENT. 

putting  them  into  different  classes.  We  may  call  the 
judgments  made  unconsciously,  implicit,  and  those  made 
consciously,  explicit.  Evidently  the  mind  made  implicit 
judgments  when  it  contemplated  what  we  have  called 
class-images.  Evidently,  also,  when  the  consciousness  of 
a  class-image  becomes  the  perception  of  an  individual 
thing,  the  judgment  is  still  implicit.  And  as  every  modifi- 
cation of  a  class-image  in  the  direction  of  an  individual 
is  an  act  of  implicit  judgment,  so  every  modification  of 
a  concept  is  an  act  of  explicit  judgment.  If  the  first  con- 
cept that  the  child  makes  of  a  rose  is  not  of  a  rose  as  a 
rose,  but  as  a  plant,  it  is  the  result  of  an  act  of  judgment 
-This  is  a  plant.  When  he  modifies  his  concept  so  as 
to  make  it  include  some  of  the  attributes  of  a  flower, 
this  modification  is  still  the  work  of  a  judgment  —  This 
plant  is  a  flower.  When  he  modifies  it  still  further  to 
make  it  include  some  of  the  attributes  of  roses,  and  then 
of  that  variety  of  roses  called  La  France,  it  is  still  the 
work  of  judgment  —  This  flower  is  a  rose,  this  rose  is  a 
La  France.  In  a  word,  the  formation  of  a  concept  and 
each  step  in  its  subsequent  modification  is  the  work  of  the 
mind  as  judgment. 

Different  Kinds  of  Judgments.  —  Explicit  judgments 
are  usually  classified  according  to  the  propositions  used 
to  express  them.  "This  man  is  a  lawyer,"  a  categorical 
proposition,  is  said  to  express  a  categorical  judgment. 
"This  man  is  either  a  lawyer  or  a  doctor,"  a  disjunctive 
proposition,  is  said  to  express  a  disjunctive  judgment.  "  If 
this  man  is  a  lawyer,  he  is  not  a  doctor,"  a  conditional 
proposition,  is  said  to  express  a  conditional  judgment.  But 
we  can  not  ascertain  the  character  of  a  judgment  by 


DIFFERENT    KINDS    OF  JUDGMENTS.  315 

examining  the  proposition  used  to  express  it.  A  categori- 
cal judgment  is  one  in  which  the  predicate  is  asserted  of 
the  stibject  absolutely  and  unconditionally.  Now,  a  cate- 
gorical proposition  may  be  the  expression  of  that  kind  of 
a  judgment,  and  it  may  not  be.  One  man  says,  The  sun 
will  rise  to-morrow  morning,  and  his  proposition  expresses 
a  categorical  judgment  —  the  possibility  even  that  the  sun 
will  not  rise  has  scarcely  occurred  to  him.  An  astronomer 
says  the  same  thing,  but  mentally  qualifies  his  assertion  — 
If  nothing  happens  to  the  earth  or  the  sun  to  prevent  it. 
A  metaphysician  mentally  qualifies  the  same  assertion 
with  the  condition  —  If  things  behave  in  the  fiiture  as 
they  have  done  in  the  past.1  The  last  two  use  a  categori- 
cal proposition  to  express  a  conditional  judgment.  So, 
likewise,  a  conditional  proposition  may  be  used  to  express 
a  categorical  judgment.  I  say  —  If  he  is  a  lawyer,  he  is 
not  a  doctor.  I  mean,  Men  do  not  practice  law  and  medi- 
cine at  the  same  time,  which  is  a  categorical  judgment. 
A  child  says,  If  I  do  not  cry,  mamma  will  give  me  candy 
—  meaning  simply  that  she  will  get  the  candy  if  she  does 
not  cry,  and  therefore  her  conditional  proposition  expresses 
a  conditional  judgment. 

When  we  make  a  judgment  about  an  entire  class,  our 
judgment  is  universal ;  when  about  a  part  of  a  class,  it  is 
particular.  All  trees  have  branches,  is  a  proposition  ex- 
pressing a  judgment  about  the  entire  class  of  trees ;  it  is, 
therefore,  universal.  Some  trees  are  green  in  winter,  is  a 
proposition  expressing  a  judgment  about  a  part  of  a  class ; 
it  is,  therefore,  particular.  Affirmative  judgments  are  those 
in  which  something  is  affirmed  ;  negative,  those  in  which 
something  is  denied. 

1  See  Lesson  VI,  also  Baldwin's  Psychology. 


316  JUDGMENT. 

Judgments  and  Processes  of  Reasoning. — The  com- 
mon  opinion  is  that  the   beliefs  (judgments)  of  men  — 
excepting  those  that  we  have  called  necessary  truths  and 
necessary  beliefs  —  are  based  on  processes  of  reasoning. 
Nothing  can  be  more  erroneous. 

Children's  Judgments.  —  The  credulity  of  children  is 
proverbial ;  but  if  we  get  our  facts  at  first  hand,  if  we 
study  "the  living,  learning,  playing  child,"  we  shall  see 
that  he  is  quite  as  remarkable  for  incredulity  as  for  credu- 
lity. The  explanation  is  simple :  He  tends  to  believe  the 
first  suggestion  that  comes  into  his  mind,  no  matter  from 
what  source ;  and  since  his  belief  is  not  the  result  of  any 
rational  process,  he  can  not  be  made  to  disbelieve  it  in  any 
rational  way.  Hence  it  happens  that  he  is  very  credulous 
in  reference  to  any  matter  about  which  he  has  no  ideas ; 
but  let  the  idea  once  get  possession  of  his  mind,  and  he  is 
quite  as  remarkable  for  incredulity  as  before  for  credulity. 
A  father  was  showing  his  little  girl  —  three  years  old  — 
a  cistern,  and  she  was  looking  at  it  with  great  interest, 
when  she  suddenly  drew  back,  and  cried  out,  in  a  frightened 
tone,  "Oh,  papa,  you  are  going  to  put  me  in  there  ! "  and 
no  amount  of  persuasion  would  induce  her  to  consent  to 
look  at  it  again,  although  the  father  had  never  threatened 
her  with  any  kind  of  physical  punishment,  and  there  was 
absolutely  nothing  in  her  experience  which  would  serve 
as  a  reason  for  her  belief.  The  explanation  is  that  the 
idea  occurred  to  her,  and  its  mere  presence  in  her  mind 
was  a  sufficient  cause  for  belief.  The  same  child  got  in  a 
passion  of  fear  because  her  father  playfully  remarked,  one 
day  when  he  had  a  caller,  that  she  must  stay  with  him  to 
keep  the  man  from  hurting  him.  Not  anticipating  any 


JUDGMENTS    OF  UNEDUCATED    MEN. 


317 


such  effect  from  his  remark,  he  tried  to  soothe  her  by 
assuring  her  that  it  was  not  so,  that  he  was  only  playing; 
but  all  to  no  purpose.  She  did  not  believe  it  because 
he  said  it  —  because  of  her  trust  in  him  —  and  therefore 
she  would  not  disbelieve  it  when  he  said  it  was  not  so. 
Study  your  "elementary  text-book,"  and  you  will  find 
abundant  illustrations  of  this  truth  :  that  belief  about 
everything  that  comes  within  the  range  of  a  child's  ex- 
perience antedates  reason  ;  that  what  reason  does,  for  the 
most  part,  in  the  early  years  of  a  child's  life,  is  to  cause 
him  to  abandon  beliefs  that  are  plainly  at  variance  with 
experience. 

Judgments  of  Uneducated  Men.  —  If  we  study  the 
larger  child  —  the  man  with  a  child's  mind  —  an  un- 
educated man  —  we  shall  have  the  same  truth  forced  upon 
us.  If  the  beliefs  of  men  were  due  to  processes  of  reason- 
ing, where  they  have  not  reasoned  they  would  not  believe. 
But  do  we  find  it  so  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  the  men  who 
have  the  most  positive  opinions  on  the  largest  variety  of 
subjects  —  so  far  as  they  have  ever  heard  of  them  —  are 
precisely  those  who  have  the  least  right  to  them  ?  Socrates, 
we  remember,  was  counted  the  wisest  man  in  Athens, 
because  he  alone  resisted  his  natural  tendency  to  believe 
in  the  absence  of  evidence ;  he  alone  would  not  delude 
himself  with  the  conceit  of  knowledge  without  the  reality; 
and  it  would  scarcely  be  too  much  to  say  that  the  intel- 
lectual strength  of  men  is  in  inverse  proportion  to  the 
number  of  things  they  are  absolutely  certain  of.  If  this 
be  true,  it  is  hard  to  overestimate  the  importance  of  the 
work  that  education  should  do  in  this  direction.  How  to 
make  men  believe  what  is  true,  how  to  keep  them  from 


318  JUDGMENT. 

believing  what  is  false,  how  to  keep  them  from  having 
opinions  upon  matters  in  reference  to  which  their  study 
and  investigation,  or  rather  the  lack  of  both,  give  them 
no  right  to  an  opinion,  is  surely  a  question  of  the  very 
greatest  importance.1  Manifestly  the  way  to  answer  it  is 
to  bring  up  the  rational  side  of  the  mind,  to  develop  it  and 
train  it  so  that  it  may  be  strong  enough  to  cope  with  the 
believing  —  judging  —  propensities  of  the  mind.  What 
we  can  do  in  this  direction,  therefore,  it  will  be  proper  for 
us  to  discuss  after  we  have  made  a  study  of  reasoning. 


QUESTIONS   ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  preceding  lesson. 

2.  What  is  the  essence  of  an  act  of  judgment  ? 

3.  State  and  illustrate  the  difference  between  explicit  and  implicit 
judgments. 

4.  What  are  the  first  implicit  judgments  ? 

5.  How  are  concepts  successively  modified  so  as  to  include  a 
larger  and  larger  number  of  attributes  ? 

1  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  intimate  that  we  should  have  no  opinions 
about  matters  that  we  have  not  personally  investigated.  We  take  and 
ought  to  take  the  opinion  of  some  men  about  law,  and  others  about 
medicine,  and  others  about  particular  sciences,  and  so  on.  But  we  should 
clearly  realize  the  difference  between  holding  an  opinion  on  trust  and  hold- 
ing it  as  the  result  of  our  own  investigations.  If  we  do,  we  shall  see  we 
have  no  right  to  an  opinion  at  all  —  on  trust  —  where  there  is  a  decided 
difference  of  opinion  among  specialists.  If  all  I  know  about  the  appear- 
ance of  a  thing  I  have  learned  from  the  reports  of  two  men,  and  if  these 
are  directly  opposed  to  each  other  on  all  the  essential  points,  then  plainly 
I  know  nothing  about  it.  In  like  manner,  if  I  take  my  conclusions  from 
specialists  —  as  I  must  to  be  reasonable,  when  I  have  not  studied  the 
matter  —  then,  when  they  disagree  widely,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
take  the  opinion  of  one  rather  than  another.  I  have,  therefore,  in  such  a 
case,  no  right  to  an  opinion. 


QUESTIONS.  319 

6.  State  the  difference  between  categorical,  disjunctive  and  hypo- 
thetical judgments. 

7.  Show  that  we  can  not  tell  the  character  of  a  judgment  by 
examining  the  proposition  used  to  express  it. 

8.  Show  that  children  often  believe  things  because  of  the  mere 
presence  of  ideas  in  their  minds. 

9.  What  are  necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs  ? 

10.  In  what  did  the  wisdom  of  Socrates  consist? 

1 1 .  What  lesson  does  this  teach  us  ? 


SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Why  is  it  important  for  us  to  believe  what  is  true  ? 

2.  Have  you  observed  beliefs  in  children  that  you  could  only 
explain  by  the  theory  stated  in  the  text  ? 

3.  Have  you  observed  a  difference  in  children  in  this  respect? 
Do  some  appear  more  ready  to  believe  without  reason  than  others  ? 


LESSON    XXXV. 

REASONING. 

Hoffding  on  Children's  Judgments. — We  saw  in  the 
last  lesson  that  children  tend  to  believe  the  first  suggestion 
that  comes  into  their  minds,  no  matter  from  what  source. 
Some  psychologists  go  much  farther  than  this.  Hoffding, 
for  instance,  says :  "  It  must  be  with  dawning  conscious- 
ness as  with  dream  consciousness  —  all  that  offers  is  at 
first  taken  for  current  coin," 1  since  to  such  a  conscious- 
ness there  is  no  ground  for  a  distinction  between  the 
world  of  possibility  and  the  world  of  fact  and  reality. 
This  argument  is  that,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  mind, 
it  follows  that,  in  the  beginning  of  its  mental  life,  a  child 
must  accept  its  ideas  or  suggestions  as  true.2  But  we 

1  Outlines  of  Psychology,  p.  131. 

2  That  acute  critic  and  profound  student  of  human  nature,   Walter 
Bagehot,  wrote  a  suggestive  paragraph  on  this  point :  "  In  true  meta- 
physics, I  believe  that,  contrary  to  common  opinion,  unbelief  far  oftener 
needs  a  reason  and  requires  an  effort  than  belief.     Naturally,  and  if  man 
were  made  according  to  the  pattern  of  the  logicians,  he  would  say  :  '  When 
I  see  a  valid  argument,  I  will  believe ;   and  till  I  see  such  argument,  I  will 
not  believe.'     But,  in  fact,  every  idea  vividly  before  us  soon  appears  to  us 
to  be  true,  unless  we  keep  our  perceptions  of  the  arguments  which  prove 
it  untrue,  and  voluntarily  coerce  our  minds  to  remember  its  falsehood. 
'  All  clear  ideas  are  true,'  was  for  ages  a  philosophical  maxim  ;  and  though 
no  maxim  can  be  more  unsound,  none  can  be  more  exactly  conformable  to 

320 


CHILDREN  S    REASONING.  321 

• 

have  here  nothing  to  do  with  such  a  priori  reasoning. 
Our  business  is  to  make  a  patient  study  of  facts ;  to  care- 
fully observe  children,  in  order  that  we  may  learn  whether 
there  is  a  tendency  to  believe  as  true  every  suggestion 
that  enters  their  minds ;  and  if  so,  to  what  extent.  But 
here,  as  always,  we  must  guard  against  the  propensity 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  such  an  active  principle  of 
human  nature  —  the  disposition  to  let  our  beliefs  run 
clean  out  of  sight  of  the  facts  upon  which  they  are  based, 
and  assert  a  universal  conclusion  upon  the  basis  of  a  few 
observations  of  two  or  three  children.  Knowing  the  influ- 
ence of  feeling  on  belief,  one  would  naturally  suppose  that 
children  would  be  more  likely  to  show  the  tendency  in 
reference  to  matters  that  excite  their  feelings.  So  far  as 
my  observations  go,  they  tend  to  confirm  the  truth  of  this 
supposition.  We  should  expect  also  that  children  of  a 
decidedly  emotional  temperament  would  be  more  likely  to 
show  it  than  those  of  a  quieter  temperament.  But  plainly 
we  have  no  right  to  an  opinion  on  this  point  until  we  have 
observed  a  large  number  of  children,  or  until  we  have  care- 
fully studied  the  results  of  competent  observers. 

Children's  Reasoning.  —  But  the  child  very  soon  begins 
to  form  judgments  that  we  can  put  into  quite  a  different 
class.  When  he  sees  a  train  coming,  and  runs  into  the 
house  because  he  is  afraid  of  it,  his  judgment,  The  train 
will  hurt  me  if  I  stay  in  the  yard,  is  the  result  of  the 

ordinary  human  nature.  The  child  resolutely  accepts  every  idea  which 
passes  through  its  brain  as  true ;  it  has  no  distinct  conception  of  an  idea 
which  is  strong,  bright,  and  permanent,  but  which  is  false  too.  The  mere 
presentation  of  an  idea,  unless  we  are  careful  about  it,  or  unless  there  is 
within  some  unusual  resistance,  makes  us  believe  it." 


322  REASONING. 

mere  presence  of  the  suggestion  in  his  mind.  The  sugges- 
tion, of  course,  is  due  to  the  association  of  ideas ;  the 
belief,  however,  is  due,  as  we  have  just  seen,  to  quite 
another  cause.  But  when  a  child,  who  was  burned  by  his 
soup  yesterday,  refuses  to  touch  it  to-day  because  he  sees  it 
smoking,  his  judgment,  The  soup  will  burn  me  if  I  put  it  in 
my  mouth,  is  probably  not  to  be  explained  in  the  same  way. 
He  does,  of  course,  think  of  the  possible  burn  because  of  the 
association  of  ideas,  but  he  believes  it  because  of  a  process 
that  might  be  roughly  described  as  follows :  Yesterday 's 
soup  smoked  and  burned  me  ;  therefore  to-day  s  soup,  which 
smokes  also,  will  burn  me.  He  makes  a  judgment  about 
past  experience  the  ground  of  a  judgment  about  future 
experience ;  he  goes  from  the  known  to  the  unknown. 
A  little  boy  once  made  the  direct  assertion,  "  Snow  is 
sugar  ;  for  snow  is  white,  and  so  is  sugar."1  Because  snow 
and  sugar  are  both  white,  he  concluded  that  they  are  the 
same. 

Reasoning  Defined.  —  Let  us  see  if  we  can  find  any 
judgment  to  serve  as  a  basis  or  reason  for  the  first  one. 
Does  the  child  think,  The  train  will  hurt  me  if  I  stay  in 
the  yard  because  other  trains  have  hurt  me  there  ?  or 
because  mamma  told  me  it  would  hurt  me  if  I  stayed 
there?  No.  He  does  not  base  the  judgment  on  any- 
thing ;  he  assumes  it.  He  does  not  go  from  the  known 
to  the  unknown ;  he  assumes  the  unknown.  His  belief  is 
not  mediate  —  reached  through  other  beliefs  —  but  imme- 
diate. Now,  the  process  of  basing  judgments  on  judg- 
ments—  of  reaching  beliefs  through  beliefs  —  is  called 
reasoning.  Reasoning,  then,  is  the  act  of  going  from  the 

1  See  Hoff ding's  Psychology,  p.  132. 


REASONING    OR  ASSOCIATION    OF   IDEAS.        323 

known  to  the  unknown  through  other  beliefs,  of  basing 
judgments  on  judgments,  reaching  beliefs  through  beliefs. 

Difficulty  of  Determining  whether  an  Action  is  the 
Result  of  Reasoning  or  of  the  Association  of  Ideas.  — 

It  is  often  impossible  to  tell  whether  a  given  action  has 
been  performed  as  the  result  of  a  mere  process  of  associa- 
tion, or  of  a  genuine  reasoning  process.  Take  the  case 
just  mentioned  of  the  child  who  refuses  to  touch  smoking 
soup  because  he  was  burned  yesterday.  I  have  explained 
his  action  as  due  to  a  reasoning  process.  But  is  any  other 
explanation  possible  ?  Certainly.  It  is  altogether  possible 
that  the  perception  of  the  smoking  soup  to-day  makes  him 
think  of  the  soup  of  yesterday,  and  that,  of  the  pain  he 
experienced,  and  that  this  thought  of  the  pain  causes  him 
to  refrain  from  eating  soup  to-day  all  through  merely 
mechanical  association.  If  his  mental  processes  were  as 
I  described  them  above,  then  he  reasoned.  But  if  his 
action  is  due  to  mechanical  association  alone,  we  can  not 
describe  his  mental  processes  as  consisting  of  a  succession 
of  related  judgments,  btit  of  unrelated  percepts  and  ideas 
which  would  have  been  judgments  if  they  had  be  en  brought 
into  certain  definite  relations  with  each  other.  "Yester- 
day's soup  smoked  and  burned ;  therefore  to-day's  soup, 
which  smokes  also,  will  burn  me"  -may  be  regarded  as 
a  rough  description  of  his  mental  process  if  he  reasons. 
But  if  he  does  not  reason,  percept  of  to-day's  soup,  thought 
of  yesterday's  soup,  yesterday's  pain  —  these  one  after  the 
other  without  being  brought  into  judgments  —may  be  the 
elements  in  consciousness  which  precede  his  action.  Even 
if  he  believes  that  the  soup  will  burn  him  to-day  —  because 
of  his  experience  yesterday,  but  not  because  he  sees  any 


324  REASONING. 

connection  between  the  two,  his  mental  process  is  not  a 
case  of  reasoning.  If  he  says,  Smoking  soup  burned  me 
yesterday,  smoking  soup  will  burn  me  to-day  —  if  these 
two  propositions  accurately  and  completely  express  his 
conscious  processes,  he  does  not  reason.  But  if  he  says 
or  thinks,  Smoking  soup  burned  me  yesterday,  therefore  it 
will  burn  me  to-day,  the  action  of  his  mind  exhibits  the 
distinctive  characteristics  of  the  reasoning  process  :  he 
believes  one  proposition  on  the  ground  of  another ;  he 
makes  one  proposition  a  reason  for  believing  another. 

A  Story  about  Ants.  —  Such  considerations  put  us  in 
a  position  to  form  an  intelligent  opinion  of  some  of  the 
wonderful  stories  reported  of  animal  intelligence.  Take 
the  story  about  ants  which  Romanes  reports  on  the  author- 
ity of  an  English  clergyman :  "  I  have  noticed  in  one  of 
my  formicaria  a  subterranean  cemetery,  where  I  have  seen 
some  ants  burying  their  dead  by  placing  earth  above  them. 
One  ant  was  evidently  much  affected,  and  tried  to  exhume 
the  bodies  ;  but  the  united  exertions  of  the  yellow  sextons 
were  more  than  sufficient  for  the  disconsolate  mourner." 

The  Action  Explained.  —  In  considering  such  an  in- 
cident the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  disentangle  the  facts  from 
the  snarl  of  inferences.  What  then  are  the  facts,  the 
observed  facts  ?  That  the  body  of  a  dead  ant  was  covered 
up,  and  that  another  ant  tried  to  prevent  it.  Is  there 
anything  about  this  which  requires  to  be  explained  as  a 
reasoning  process  ?  By  no  means.  Ants  have  a  habit  of 
removing  anything  that  is  in  their  way,  and  this  habit  — 
which  is  probably  entirely  due  to  instinct  —  explains  their 
so-called  burial  of  the  dead  ant.  As  to  the  grief  of  the 


A    STORY   OF  A   DOG.  325 

disconsolate  mourner  —  how  did  the  observer  happen  to 
learn  the  signs  of  grief  in  ants  ?  I  know  when  you  are 
grieved.  Why  ?  Because  you  manifest  it  in  the  same  way 
that  I  do  —  by  the  expression  of  your  countenance,  and  so 
on.  Did  the  countenance  of  the  ant  take  on  a  sorrowful 
expression  ?  Plainly  the  grief  of  the  ant  was  an  inference, 
and  a  gratuitous  one  at  that.  Granted  that  the  ant  at- 
tempted to  prevent  the  so-called  burial  :  did  he  do  it 
because  he  was  grieved  or  for  some  cause  with  which  we 
are  entirely  unacquainted  ?  The  latter  is  surely  the  more 
reasonable  supposition. 

A  Story  of  a  Dog.  —  Professor  James  reports  an  incident 
of  animal  intelligence  which  would  at  once  be  set  down  by 
careless  observers  as  a  case  of  reasoning.  "A  friend  of 
the  writer  gave  as  a  proof  of  the  almost  human  intelligence 
of  his  dog  that  he  took  him  one  day  down  to  his  boat  on 
the  shore,  but  found  the  boat  full  of  dirt  and  water.  He 
remembered  that  the  sponge  was  up  at  the  house  a  third 
of  a  mile  distant;  but,  disliking  to  go  back  himself,  he 
made  various  gestures  of  wiping  out  the  boat,  and  so  forth, 
saying  to  his  terrier,  'Sponge,  sponge,  go  fetch  the  sponge.' 
But  he  had  little  expectation  of  a  result  since  the  dog  had 
never  received  the  slightest  training  with  the  boat  or  the 
sponge.  Nevertheless,  off  he  trotted  to  the  house,  and,  to 
his  owner's  great  surprise  and  admiration,  brought  the 
sponge  in  his  jaws." 

The  Action  Explained.  — Was  this  a  case  of  reasoning? 
Not  necessarily.  The  probabilities  are  that  the  owner's 
gestures  and  language  suggested  the  sponge  by  mechanical 
association.  If,  as  Professor  James  says,  he  had  been  un- 


326  REASONING. 

able  to  find  the  sponge,  and  had  brought  back  a  mop  or  a 
dipper  it  would  have  been  clearly  a  case  of  reasoning.  His 
actions  in  that  case  would  have  been  due  to  a  perception 
of  the  relation  between  the  dipper  and  the  use  to  which  it 
was  to  be  put  —  to  the  perception  of  the  fact  that  for  his 
owner's  purpose  dipper  and  sponge  were  the  same  thing. 
Such  a  perception  could  not  be  explained  as  consisting  of 
mechanical  association. 

Reasoning  from   Particular  to   Particular.  —  If   we 

examine  our  minds  to  see  the  course  they  take  in  the 
reasonings  of  every-day  life,  we  shall  find  that  we  generally 
reason  from  some  particular  fact  to  some  particular  fact. 
You  are  going  to  take  a  train  at  half-past  eleven,  and  you 
must  give  yourself  ten  minutes  to  go  to  the  depot.  You 
look  at  your  watch  ;  the  hands  indicate  that  it  is  fifteen 
minutes  past  eleven.  Remembering  that  it  was  five  min- 
utes slow  yesterday,  you  hurry  off  at  once.  Why  ?  Because 
you  believe  it  is  twenty  minutes  past  eleven,  since  your 
watch  was  five  minutes  slow  yesterday.  Because  your  watch 
was  five  minutes  slow  yesterday,  you  believe  it  is  five  min- 
utes slow  to-day  ;  you  reason  from  a  particular  fact  to  a 
particular  fact.  As  you  go  out  of  the  gate  you  notice 
threatening  clouds  in  the  west.  You  go  back  and  get  your 
umbrella,  as  you  think  it  is  likely  to  rain.  From  the  par- 
ticular judgment,  The  clouds  look  tints  and  so,  you  go 
directly  to  the  particular  judgment.  It  is  likely  to  rain. 

Deductive  and  Inductive  Reasoning.  —  But  suppose, 
in  either  case,  I  dispute  your  inference  ;  suppose  I  say 
that  it  is  only  fifteen  minutes  past  eleven,  or  that  it  is  not 
likely  to  rain.  You  seek  to  justify  your  conclusion  ;  you 


QUESTIONS.  327 

fix  your  attention  on  the  considerations  that  seem  to  you  to 
prove  it.  You  say,  I  have  found  by  long  experience  that 
my  watch  is  reliable,  and  since  it  was  five  minutes  slow 
yesterday,  I  know  that  it  is  five  minutes  slow  to-day.  Or, 
you  point  to  such  and  such  characteristics  of  the  clouds, 
and  say,  Clouds  that  look  that  way  threaten  rain.  In  the 
first  case  you  seek  to  justify  your  inference  from  your  con- 
clusion by  appealing  to  particular  facts ;  in  the  second,  by 
appealing  to  a  universal  proposition.  Now  that  illustrates 
the  difference  between  deductive  and  inductive  reasoning. 
In  either  deductive  or  inductive  reasoning  the  mind  may 
start  from  particular  facts.  But  when  the  mind  retraces 
its  steps  in  order  to  find  the  proof  of  its  conclusion,  it  may 
find  it  either  in  a  general  proposition,  or  in  particular 
propositions.  In  the  first  case  the  reasoning  is  called 
deductive ;  in  the  second,  inductive.  Deductive  and  in- 
ductive reasoning,  then,  are  not  so  much  two  kinds  of 
reasoning  as  two  modes  of  proof — two  modes  of  exhibit- 
ing to  ourselves  or  others  the  grounds  of  inferences  already 
drawn.  When  we  prove  a  conclusion  by  a  general  pro- 
position, the  reasoning  is  called  deductive ;  when  by  par- 
ticular propositions,  it  is  called  inductive. 


QUESTIONS   ON  THE  TEXT. 

1 .  What  is  a  priori  reasoning  f 

2.  By  what  a  priori  reasoning  does  H  off  ding  seek  to  show  that 
children  first  hold  all  their  ideas  to  be  true  ? 

3.  Illustrate  the  difference  between  such  judgments  and  reasoning. 

4.  What  is  the  difference  between  inference  and  proof? 

5.  State  and  define  and  illustrate  the  two  kinds  of  proof. 


328  REASONING. 


SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  A  child  heard  a  servant  say  that  a  certain  musical  instrument 
was  a  harp ;  her  mother  afterwards  told  her  that  it  was  an  harmonica, 
but  she  insisted  that  it  was  a  harp.     Explain  it. 

2.  Give  examples  of  the  various  cases   of  reasoning  that  have 
come  under  your  observation  during  the  day,  and  determine  whether 
they  are  inductive  or  deductive. 


LESSON    XXXVI. 

REASONING. 
(Continued.") 

Difference  between  Inductive  and  Deductive  Reason- 
ing. —  We  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  the  difference 
between  deductive  and  inductive  reasoning  is  rather  a 
difference  in  the  method  of  proving  conclusions  already 
inferred  than  a  difference  in  the  method  of  inferring  them ; 
that  when  we  appeal  to  a  universal  proposition  to  prove 
our  conclusion,  the  reasoning  is  called  deductive ;  induc- 
tive when  we  appeal  to  one  or  more  particular  propo- 
sitions. 

Why  does  the  same  Method  of  Reasoning  sometimes 
Lead  to  a  True,  and  sometimes  to  a  False  Conclusion  ? 
-  But  how  is  that  I  am  able  to  find  the  proof  of  a  fact  in 
particular  propositions  ?  When  you  say,  "  I  know  that 
this  is  a  Marechal  Niel  because  I  know  that  all  the  roses 
that  have  the  characteristics  of  this  rose  are  Marechal 
Niels,"  if  I  disagree  with  you  it  is  because  I  do  not  believe 
your  premise.  Admitting  your  premise,  that  all  the  roses 
that  have  the  characteristics  of  this  rose  are  Mare"chal 
Niels,  I  must  admit  your  conclusion.  But  when  the  child 
argues,  "  Sugar  is  white,  snow  is  white,  therefore  snow  is 
sugar,"  I  admit  his  premises,  but  deny  his  conclusion.  But 
when  he  argues,  "  This  and  that  and  the  other  unsupported 

329 


33O  REASONING. 

bodies  have  fallen  ;  this  stone  is  an  unsupported  body, 
therefore  it  will  fall,"  I  admit  the  truth  of  his  conclusion. 
In  both  cases  he  argues  from  true  particular  propositions. 
We  have  to  inquire  (i)  how  he  came  to  choose  those  par- 
ticulars in  order  to  prove  his  conclusion ;  and  (2)  how  it 
happened  that  apparently  the  same  method  led,  in  one 
case,  to  a  false  conclusion  ;  in  the  other,  to  a  true  one. 

We  Base  Affirmative  Conclusions  on  Likenesses,  but 
never  on  Differences.  —  I  think  we  shall  see  how  to 
answer  the  first  question  if  we  ask  ourselves  if  a  child  can 
believe  that  snow  is  sugar  because  the  one  is  white  and 
the  other  sweet.  We  know  that  he  can  not.  We  know 
that  children  —  human  beings  in  general  —  reason  from 
observed  likenesses  to  unobserved  likenesses,  but  never 
front  differences  to  affirmative  conclusions.  We  know 
that  the  child  argued  that  snow  is  sugar  because  snow 
and  sugar  resemble  each  other  in  being  white  —  because 
they  belong  to  the  class  of  white  objects.  The  proof,  in  a 
word,  that  snow  is  sugar  he  found  in  the  fact  that  both 
are  white.  He  took  one  white  thing  —  sugar  —  to  be  the 
type  of  all  white  things  —  judged  implicitly  that  all  white 
things  are  sugar.  He  argued,  then,  that  snow  is  sugar 
because  it  is  one  of  the  class  of  white  things,  all  of  which 
are  sugar. 

He  selects  the  particular  propositions,  This  unsupported 
object  has  fallen,  That  unsupported  object  has  fallen,  etc., 
to  prove  that  the  stone  will  fall  if  it  is  unsupported,  for 
the  same  reason.  Can  he  believe  that  a  stone  will  fall 
because  a  robin  flies,  and  a  geranium  bears  blossoms,  and 
a  maple  puts  forth  leaves  in  spring-time  ?  Certainly  not. 
These  facts  and  the  one  he  believes  do  not  resemble  each 


LIKENESSES,  BUT   NOT   DIFFERENCES.  331 

other  —  are  not  members  of  a  class.  He  believes  that  an 
unsupported  stone  will  fall,  on  the  ground  that  this  and 
that  and  the  other  body  have  done  so,  because  he  takes 
this,  that,  and  the  other  body  as  types  of  the  class.  He 
has  made  a  class  of  unsupported  bodies,  and  has  judged 
that  those  he  has  observed  are  examples  of  the  entire  class. 
When,  then,  he  reasons  that  the  stone  will  fall  if  unsup- 
ported, because  this  and  that  and  the  other  body  have  done 
so,  he  really  reasons  that  it  will  do  so  because  all  unsup- 
ported bodies  will  do  so.  We  see,  then,  that  there  is 
no  essential  difference  between  inductive  and  deductive 
reasoning.  When  I  prove  a  particular  fact  by  other  par- 
ticular facts,  I  do  so  because  they  are  members  of  the 
same  class  as  the  one  about  which  I  am  trying  to  prove 
something,  and  because  I  have  already,  explicitly  or  im- 
plicitly, reached  a  conclusion  about  the  entire  class.  When 
a  universal  judgment  is  consciously  appealed  to,  the  reason- 
ing is  deductive ;  when  it  is  unconsciously  appealed  to,  it 
is  said  to  be  inductive ;  and  that  is  the  sole  difference 
between  deductive  and  inductive  reasoning.  I  say,  "  I  am 
going  to  die  sometime."  You  ask,  "Why?"  "Because 
all  men  are  mortal."  There  I  appeal  consciously  to  a 
universal  proposition.  If  I  reply,  "  Because  this  and  that 
and  the  other  man  have  died,"  I  certainly  appeal,  per- 
haps unconsciously,  to  a  universal  proposition,  since  it  is 
only  because  this  and  that  and  the  other  individual  and  I 
are  members  of  the  same  class  that  what  has  happened 
to  them  throws  any  light  on  what  is  likely  to  happen 
to  me. 

We  see,  then,  that  we  appeal  to  certain  particular 
propositions  to  prove  a  fact,  because  they  are  included  in 
a  universal  judgment  that  we  have  made. 


332  REASONING. 

All  Inductive  Reasoning  is  Deductive  Reasoning. — 
Now,  we  see  why  the  same  kind  of  reasoning  sometimes 
leads  to  a  true  conclusion  and  sometimes  to  one  that  is 
false.  All  inductive  reasoning  is  deductive  reasoning. 
When  the  universal  implied  by  the  particulars  is  false,  the 
conclusion  based  upon  it  will  be  false.  All  white  things 
are  not  sugar.  Hence  it  is  a  mistake  to  say  that  snow  is 
sugar  because  it  is  white.  All  unsupported  bodies  will 
fall.  Hence  I  am  justified  in  concluding  that  this  stone 
will,  because  this  and  that  and  the  other  bodies  have  done 
so  when  I  take  them  to  be  types  of  the  class. 

The  proof  in  deductive  reasoning  may  always  be  thrown 
into  the  following  form  called  a  syllogism  : 

(Major  premise?)     All  white  things  are  sugar  ; 

{Minor  premise?)     Snow  is  a  white  thing  ; 

(Conclusion?)  Therefore,  snow  is  sugar. 

Why  Able  Men  so  often  Differ.  —  We  see  here  very 
plainly  again  that  an  act  of  reasoning  may  be  altogether 
correct  as  a  process,  and  yet  lead  to  a  false  conclusion, 
because  one  of  the  premises  is  incorrect.  That  enables  us 
to  see  why  able  men  so  often  differ  with  each  other ;  they 
start  from  different  premises.  Take  the  great  differences 
you  find  between  men  in  matters  of  politics,  science  — 
every  department  of  thought  —  and  you  will  often  find 
that  they  rest  at  bottom  on  the  fact  that  those  who  differ 
started  from  different  major  premises.  A  physicist  or 
physiologist,  for  example,  is  very  likely  to  believe  that 
nothing  can  cause  a  change  in  matter  but  matter.  If  so, 
he  is  almost  certain  to  be  a  materialist,  since  the  changes 
in  the  body  that  we  usually  attribute  to  consciousness,  he 
will  attribute  to  the  brain.  His  reasoning  may  be  thrown 


WHY   ABLE    MEN    SO    OFTEN    DIFFER.  333 

into  the  form  of  a  syllogism  :  Nothing  can  cause  a  change 
in  matter  but  matter.  But  consciousness  is  not  matter. 
Therefore,  consciousness  can  not  cause  a  change  in  the 
body.  A  psychologist,  on  the  other  hand,  may  assume 
that  nothing  can  have  the  characteristics  that  the  mind 
has  without  having  some  of  the  attributes  of  a  substance. 
If  so,  he  will  not  be  a  materialist.  His  reasoning  may  be 
thrown  into  the  following  syllogism  :  Nothing  can  have 
such  characteristics  as  the  mind  has  without  being  a  sub- 
stance. But  the  mind  can  not  be  a  substance  if  mental 
facts  are  mere  phenomena  of  the  brain.  Therefore  mental 
facts  are  not  mere  phenomena  of  the  brain.  One  man 
says,  "  All  measures  that  tend  to  promote  home  production 
are  beneficial.  A  protective  tariff  does  this ;  therefore  a 
protective  tariff  is  beneficial."  Another  says,  "Undoubt- 
edly your  conclusion  is  true  if  your  major  premise  is,  but 
I  deny  your  major  premise.  I  hold  that  what  promotes 
the  interests  of  individuals  promotes  the  interests  of  na- 
tions." Here  we  have  an  argument  leading  to  a  conclu- 
sion that  directly  contradicts  the  first,  because  it  starts 
from  a  major  premise  that  contradicts  the  major  premise 
of  the  first  argument.  Compare  the  argument  of  Ex- 
Speaker  Reed  in  the  North  American  Revieiv,  January, 
1890,  with  the  reply  of  Senator  Carlisle  —  the  former 
defending  the  rules  of  the  House  of  Representatives  that 
had  just  been  adopted  by  the  Republican  majority,  the 
latter  severely  criticising  them.  Reed  reasons  substantially 
as  follows:  Whatever  rules  are  necessary  to  enable  the 
House  to  transact  business  are  wise ;  the  rules  adopted  by 
the  Republicans  are  necessary  to  enable  the  House  to 
transact  business;  therefore  they  are  wise.  Carlisle,  on 
the  other  hand,  reasons  substantially  as  follows  :  Whatever 


334  REASONING. 

rules  enable  the  Speaker  of  the  House  to  exercise  arbitrary 
and  tyrannical  power  are  unwise ;  the  rules  just  adopted 
by  the  House  enable  the  Speaker  to  exercise  arbitrary  and 
tyrannical  power  ;  therefore  they  are  unwise. 

Why  Able  Men  Start  from  Different  Premises.  —  If 

you  ask  how  it  happens  that  able  men  so  often  start  from 
different  premises,  you  ask  a  difficult  question.  One  reason 
undoubtedly  is,  that  the  imagination,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
the  sole  audience  chamber  in  which  Reality  gets  a  hear- 
ing. If  for  any  reason  we  do  not  image  certain  aspects  or 
phases  of  Reality,  they  are  for  us  as  though  they  did  not 
exist.  The  great  majority  of  the  facts  to  which  the  phys- 
icist habitually  gives  his  attention  are  so  well  explained  by 
his  assumption,  that  it  comes  finally  to  seem  like  an  abso- 
lute certainty  —  precisely  as  we  are  inclined  to  think  it 
absolutely  certain  that  things  will  behave  in  the  future  as 
they  have  done  in  the  past.  When  he  occasionally  thinks 
of  facts  that  seem  to  contradict  his  assumption,  he  refuses 
to  believe  them.  That  which  is  absolutely  true  can  not 
be  contradicted,  however  it  may  seem  to  be.  Sometimes 
we  refuse,  more  or  less  consciously,  to  consider  but  one 
side  of  a  question.  If  we  are  interested  in  supporting  a 
particular  conclusion,  it  often  happens  that  we  will  not 
look  at  the  other  side  Members  of  debating  societies 
generally  come  to  believe  that  their  side  is  right,  whatever 
they  thought  at  the  start.  They  are  looking  for  arguments 
on  but  one  side,  and  they  see  no  others.  The  Republicans 
in  the  House  all  voted  for  the  Republican  rules  in  1 889, 
and  the  Democrats  against  them.  A  few  of  both  parties, 
perhaps,  voted  dishonestly,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
great  majority  voted  honestly.  The  Republicans  were 


ABLE    MEN  AND    DIFFERENT   PREMISES.         335 

interested  in  having  their  rules  adopted,  and  looked  for 
arguments  to  justify  their  course ;  the  Democrats  were 
interested  in  having  them  rejected,  and  looked  for  argu- 
ments to  justify  their  course. 

History  abounds  in  illustrations  of  the  effects  of  interest 
on  belief. 

Every  one  who  has  studied  the  history  of  Calhoun 
knows  that  a  great  change  began  to  take  place  in  his 
opinions  about  the  year  1825.  Before  that  time  he  had 
been  an  advocate  of  a  protective  tariff,  a  national  bank, 
internal  improvements,  a  liberal  interpretation  of  the  Con- 
stitution. About  1825  his  opinions  on  all  these  questions 
began  to  undergo  a  change,  and  in  a  few  years  he  had 
completely  wheeled  about.  The  explanation  is,  that  about 
this  time  he  had  begun  to  see  that  slavery  was  the  control- 
ling interest  of  the  South,  and  that  the  only  constitutional 
weapon  with  which  it  could  be  defended  was  the  doctrine 
of  State  rights.  Under  the  influence  of  this  perception 
the  only  facts  that  he  permitted  himself  to  realize  (imagine) 
were  those  that  supported  his  favorite  doctrine. 

Andrew  Jackson's  history  abounds  in  illustrations  of  this 
kind.  No  man  could  be  his  friend  and  disagree  with  him. 
He  was  not  only  a  very  sincere  patriot,  but  he  was  sure 
he  was  right,  and  therefore  that  everybody  who  disagreed 
with  him  was  wrong.  What  seemed  true  to  him  seemed 
so  self-evident  that  he  could  not  understand  how  a  man 
could  honestly  and  honorably  differ  with  him.  His  feel- 
ings not  only  determined  his  beliefs,  but  gave  them  such 
intensity  that  he  could  not  conceive  that  any  one  could 
really  doubt  them. 

The  history  of  men  like  Alexander  Hamilton  and  Jeffer- 
son gives  still  different  illustrations  of  this  truth.  Because 


336  REASONING. 

of  natural  differences  between  the  things  they  liked,  they 
inclined  to  start  from  different  premises  in  their  political 
reasonings.  Jefferson  naturally  trusted  the  people  and 
believed  in  their  political  capacity,  because  of  his  optimistic 
temperament  and  because  of  his  hatred  of  any  form  of 
government  which  made  tyranny  possible.  Without  Jeffer- 
son's optimism  and  Jefferson's  hatred  of  a  form  of  govern- 
ment which  made  tyranny  possible,  and  with  a  strong  love 
of  order  and  stability,  Hamilton  as  naturally  believed  in 
a  strong  government  • —  one  strong  enough  to  hold  the 
people  in  check  • —  as  did  Jefferson  in  a  weak  one,  because 
he  did  not  think  the  people  needed  much  governmental 
restraint. 

Two  Things  to  be  Done  in  Training  the  Reasoning 
Powers  of  Pupils.  —  From  this  point  of  view,  it  is  clear 
that  there  are  two  things  to  be  done  in  the  training  of  the 
reasoning  powers  of  our  pupils:  (i)  To  train  them  to 
reason  correctly  from  given  premises ;  and  (2)  to  give 
them  such  training  as  will  diminish,  as  much  as  possible, 
the  influence  of  personal  considerations  in  selecting  the 
premises  upon  which  they  base  their  reasoning  —  to  give 
them  such  a  love  of  truth  that  it  will  be  able  to  neutralize 
the  influence  of  all  merely  personal  preferences  and  wishes. 
What  we  want  to  believe  has  a  great  influence  on  what  we 
do  believe,  but  it  has  no  influence  in  determining  what 
is  true. 

Calhoun  and  the  South  wanted  to  believe  that  slavery 
was  right,  and  they  did  ;  but  that  did  not  make  it  right. 
In  order  to  defend  slavery,  they  wanted  to  believe  that  the 
doctrine  of  State  rights  was  true,  and  they  did ;  but  that  did 
not  make  it  true.  Their  attempt  to  put  it  in  practice,  how- 


REASONING    POWERS    OF   PUPILS.  337 

ever  resulted  in  one  of  the  most  fearful  civil  wars  of  which 
history  gives  us  any  account.  Yet  all  that  can  be  done, 
it  seems  to  me,  in  the  way  of  diminishing  the  influence  of 
personal  considerations  in  determining  premises,  is,  in  the 
first  place,  to  point  out  the  great  danger  of  such  influences. 
We  have  considered  examples  of  such  influences  from 
history ;  you  need  not  go  to  history  to  find  them  in  abun- 
dance. Incidents  at  school,  if  you  are  on  the  lookout  for 
them,  will  give  you  ample  opportunity  to  bring  home  to 
your  pupils  the  fact  that  there  is  great  danger  of  their 
being  led  to  believe  this  or  that,  not  because  a  candid  sur- 
vey of  all  the  facts  shows  that  it  is  most  probable,  but 
because  they  wish  to  believe  it.  In  the  second  place,  we 
can  set  them  a  good  example.  I  do  not  know  how  United 
States  history  can  be  taught  profitably  except  by  constant 
reference  to  current  events.  Mr.  Freeman  well  says  that 
"History  is  past  politics  and  politics  present  history"; 
and  the  teacher  of  United  States  history  should  constantly 
try  to  illustrate  "past  politics"  by  "present  politics,"  and 
show  how  "  present  politics "  are  the  necessary  results  of 
the  politics  of  the  past.  But  to  do  this  profitably  —  to  do 
it  without  exciting  the  prejudices  of  his  pupils  —  he  must 
make  it  very  evident  that  in  all  the  questions  he  discusses, 
his  supreme  desire  is  to  get  at  the  truth.  And  he  must 
really  have  that  desire.  In  these  and  all  other  questions 
he  should  not  only  allow,  but  encourage,  the  utmost  free- 
dom of  discussion.  And  when  his  pupils  have  pointed  out 
an  error  in  his  reasonings  —  which  they  are  sure  to  do 
sometimes  —  he  should  acknowledge  it  instantly,  and  thus 
sho  w  his  supreme  deference  to  truth. 


REASONING. 


QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Show  clearly  the  difference  between  inductive  and  deductive 
reasoning. 

2.  What  is  a  syllogism  ? 

3.  Illustrate  how  it  happens  that  able  men  so  often  differ  with 
each  other. 

4.  Illustrate  the  influence  of  interest  on  belief. 

5.  What  can  you  do  to  train  the  reasoning  powers  of  your  pupils  ? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Give  illustrations  from  your  own  observations  of  the  influence 
of  interest  on  belief. 

2.  Can  you  illustrate  the  same  influence  from  current  politics  ? 


LESSON    XXXVII. 

REASONING. 
(Continued.) 

WE  have  seen  that  the  only  difference  between  inductive 
and  deductive  reasoning  is  that  the  one  is  based  on  an 
implicit  and  the  other  on  an  explicit  universal. 

We  will  now  consider  that  kind  of  deductive  reasoning 
that  is  usually  called  induction,  and  to  avoid  circumlocution 
I  will  give  it  the  name  that  it  usually  bears. 

Relation  of  Induction  to  Generalization.  —  Induction 
very  closely  resembles  generalization.  Generalization,  you 
remember,  is  the  last  of  the  three  processes  involved  in  the 
formation  of  a  concept.  A  child  directs  his  attention  to 
two  or  more  objects  at  the  same  time  —  comparison  —  and 
after  noting  their  like  and  unlike  qualities,  fixes  his  atten- 
tion upon  the  former  —  abstraction  —  and  thinks  of  them 
as  the  characteristics  of  a  class  —  generalization.  But 
there  is  no  going  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  and, 
consequently,  no  reasoning  in  the  act  of  generalization. 
When  a  child,  noting  that  two  or  more  objects  resembling 
each  other  in  a  number  of  particulars,  and  all  used  to  sit 
in,  thinks  of  the  qualities  in  which  they  resemble  each 
other  as  the  characteristics  of  a  class  —  extends,  in  other 
words,  the  name  given  to  them  to  all  objects  possessing 
similar  qualities  —  he  does  not  make  an  inference  about 

339 


340  REASONING. 

the  objects  he  does  not  see.  He  does  not  say  that  since 
these  chairs  have  this  and  that  and  the  other  quality, 
therefore  all  chairs  have  them  —  that  would  be  an  induc- 
tion. But  he  says,  Since  these  objects  are  alike  in  cer- 
tain respects,  I  will  make  a  class  of  them,  and  if  there 
are  any  other  objects  that  possess  the  same  qualities,  I 
will  put  them  in  the  same  class  —  call  them  by  the  same 
name. 

Of  course  a  child  does  not  definitely  think  any  such 
thoughts.  We  know  that  there  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween what  the  mind  really  does  and  what  it  is  conscious 
of  doing.  And  when  a  child  sees  two  objects  and  calls 
them  dogs  —  thus  putting  them  in  the  same  class  —  and 
when  seeing  another  dog,  he  says,  "dog"  —putting  it  in 
the  same  class  —  it  is  plain  that  his  mind  has  taken  the 
course  I  have  endeavored  to  describe.  This  is  generaliza- 
tion. But  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  generalization 
(making  a  class  of  objects)  and  induction  (concluding  be- 
cause one  or  more  members  of  a  class  have  such  and  such 
characteristics,  therefore  they  all  have  it ;  or  because  some- 
thing is  true  of  one  or  more  members  of  a  class,  therefore 
it  will  be  true  of  all).  In  the  one  case,  we  are  merely 
arranging  objects  into  classes ;  in  the  other,  we  reason 
from  one  or  more  members  of  the  class  to  the  entire 
class. 

From  this  it  is  evident  that  induction  presupposes  gen- 
eralization. If  in  induction  I  reason  from  one  or  more 
members  of  a  class  to  the  whole  class,  I  must  have  the 
idea  of  the  class  already  formed  in  my  mind. 

We  have  already  seen  that  inductive  reasoning  assumes 
that  certain  individuals  are  types  of  an  entire  class.  Let 
us  consider  this  further. 


INDUCTIVE    REASONING.  34 1 

Two  Assumptions  Underlying  All  Inductive  Reason- 
ing. —  When  I  reason  that  all  crows  are  black  because  all 
the  crows  I  have  seen  were  black,  I  assume  that  the  crows 
I  have  seen  are  types  or  examples  of  the  entire  class.  This 
assumption  that  we  can  regard  a  greater  or  less  number 
of  individuals  as  types  of  a  class  clearly  underlies  a  large 
part  of  our  inductions,  and  we  never  can  be  quite  sure  in 
any  case  that  we  have  a  right  to  make  it.  Of  course,  it 
is  more  likely  to  be  true  when  the  instances  which  we 
assume  to  represent  the  entire  class  are  very  numerous. 
But,  no  matter  how  many  cases  we  have  examined,  it  will 
always  be  possible  that  some  member  of  the  class  that  we 
have  not  seen  may  be  unlike  those  we  have  seen. 

An  hypothesis  is  an  assumption  that  we  make  to  account 
for  facts.  Our  minds  are  of  such  a  nature  that  we  feel  a 
certain  uneasiness  when  we  know  a  fact  that  we  can  not 
explain,  and  therefore  it  is  natural  for  us  to  try  to  make 
some  hypothesis  or  supposition  to  account  for  any  fact  we 
know.  And  since,  of  course,  we  do  not  make  improbable 
suppositions  to  account  for  facts,  or  rather  since  we  do  not 
make  suppositions  that  seem  to  us  improbable,  we  are 
inclined  to  regard  them  as  true,  so  long  as  they  explain 
the  facts.  And  this  is  another  assumption  upon  which  the 
greater  part,  if  not  all,  of  our  inductions  are  based. 

This  assumption  can  not  be  so  definitely  stated  as  the 
preceding  one.  It  would  not  be  correct  to  state  it  in  this 
form:  An  hypothesis  which  explains  facts  is  true.  For 
one  great  reason  why  people  differ  from  each  other  so 
widely  in  their  opinions  is  that  of  two  hypotheses  that 
equally  well  explain  the  facts,  one  seems  true  to  one,  and 
the  other  to  another.  A  dozen  men  on  a  jury  listen  to  the 
same  evidence,  and  part  of  them  base  one  conclusion  upon 


342  REASONING. 

it,  and  the  rest  of  them  another.  This  is  only  another  way 
of  saying  that  one  hypothesis  that  explains  the  facts  seems 
probable  to  a  part  of  them,  and  another  to  the  rest  of  them. 
I  do  not  believe  that  a  more  definite  account  of  this  assump- 
tion can  be  given  than  the  following :  We  are  naturally 
disposed  to  believe  any  hypothesis  that  does  not  seem  im- 
probable in  itself,  which  explains  facts  for  which  we  have, 
apart  from  it,  no  explanation. 

Law  of  Parsimony.  —  It  is  evident  that  of  two  hypoth- 
eses, one  which  assumes  a  cause  certainly  known  to  exist, 
to  account  for  the  facts,  and  one  which  assumes  an  un- 
known cause,  the  former  is  the  more  reasonable.  That  is 
the  reason  why  we  are  bound  to  account  for  the  actions  of 
animals  by  means  of  the  hypothesis  of  mechanical  associa- 
tion, if  we  can.  Animals  certainly  do  associate  things 
mechanically.  If,  then,  we  can  explain  their  actions  by 
means  of  laws  known  to  be  in  operation,  we  have  no  right 
to  assume  any  other.  That  is  the  meaning  of  the  law 
of  Parsimony:  Causes  must  not  be  multiplied  beyond 
necessity. 

Need  of  Care  in  Making  Inductions.  —  Since  we  can 
not  rid  our  inductions  of  an  element  of  uncertainty,  no 
matter  how  cautiously  and  carefully  we  frame  them,  it  is 
evident  that,  unless  we  make  them  as  cautiously  and  as 
carefully  as  we  can,  they  are  likely  to  have  very  little 
value.  "  I  do  not  like  Jews,"  says  one.  Get  him  to  tell 
you  why,  and  you  will  find  that  the  reason  is  that  he  has 
known  two  or  three  Jews  who  were  not  pleasant  persons. 
"  It  does  not  do  boys  any  good  to  go  to  college,"  says 
another.  "John  Jones  went  to  college,  and  he  does  not 


NEED    OF   CARE    IN    MAKING    INDUCTIONS.       343 

know  any  more  than  Will  Smith  does  "  —  as  though  an 
examination  of  the  case  of  John  Jones  entitled  one  to  an 
opinion  of  the  whole  class  of  students  that  attend  college. 
"  I  do  not  like  people  with  little  noses,"  says  a  third ; 
"  they  are  always  mean  and  stingy."  The  foundation  for 
which  is  that  he  has  seen  one  or  two  people  with  little 
noses  who  were  stingy.  Doubtless  the  great  majority  of 
the  popular  superstitions,  "Thirteen  is  an  unlucky  num- 
ber," "Bad  luck  to  begin  anything  on  Friday,"  etc.,  origi- 
nated the  same  way.  The  best  thing  we  can  do  to  guard 
our  pupils  against  such  inductions  is  so  constantly  to  call 
their  attention  to  the  necessity  of  founding  their  beliefs 
upon  a  wide  basis  of  facts  that  they  may  get  a  realization 
of  the  danger  of  doing  anything  else. 

How  to  Impress  this  upon  Pupils.  —  Of  course,  the 
first  condition  of  doing  this  successfully  is  that  you  have  a 
vivid  appreciation  of  the  dangers  of  such  inductions  your- 
self. If  you  have  such  an  appreciation,  by  encouraging 
them  to  express  their  opinions  upon  the  various  matters 
that  come  up,  you  can  do  something  to  develop  such  an 
appreciation  in  them.  And  when  you  are  trying  to  develop 
it,  first  of  all  in  your  own  mind,  and  then  in  the  minds  of 
your  pupils,  remember  that  the  greatest  foe  of  progress  is 
Ignorance,  and  that  the  strongest  friends  of  Ignorance 
are  the  dogmatism  and  prejudice  to  which  careless  and 
slovenly  reasoning  naturally  give  birth. 

We  have  seen  that  when  we  appeal  to  a  general  pro- 
position to  prove  our  conclusion,  the  reasoning  is  called 
deductive;  when  we  appeal  to  particular  facts,  inductive. 
When  we  try  to  prove  one  fact  by  appealing  to  another 
which  is  only  valid  to  prove  the  one  fact  we  have  inferred, 


344  REASONING. 

so  far  as  it   has  any  validity,  we   are  said   to  reason  by 
analogy. 

Argument  from  Analogy.  —  Argument  from  analogy  is 
denned  by  Jevons  as  "  direct  inductive  inference  from  one 
fact  to  any  similar  fact."  The  same  author  gives  the  fol- 
lowing example :  "  Thus  the  planet  Mars  possesses  an 
atmosphere,  with  clouds  and  mist  closely  resembling  our 
own ;  it  has  seas,  distinguished  from  the  land  by  a  greenish 
color,  and  polar  regions  covered  with  snow.  The  red  color 
of  the  planet  seems  to  be  due  to  the  atmosphere,  like  the 
red  color  of  our  sunrises  and  sunsets.  So  much  is  similar 
in  the  surface  of  Mars  and  the  surface  of  the  earth,  that 
we  readily  argue  there  must  be  inhabitants  there  as  here. 
All  that  we  can  certainly  say,  however,  is  that  if  the  cir- 
cumstances be  really  similar,  and  similar  germs  of  life 
have  been  created  there  as  here?  there  must  be  inhabitants. 
The  fact  that  many  circumstances  are  similar,  increases 
the  probability.  But  between  the  earth  and  the  sun,  the 
analogy  is  of  a  much  fainter  character.  We  speak,  indeed, 
of  the  sun's  atmosphere  being  subject  to  storms  and  filled 
with  clouds,  but  these  clouds  are  heated  probably  beyond 
the  temperature  of  our  hottest  furnaces ;  if  they  produce 
rain,  it  must  resemble  melted  iron ;  and  the  sun-spots  are 
perturbations  of  so  tremendous  a  size  and  character  that 
the  earth,  together  with  half  a  dozen  of  the  other  planets, 
could  readily  be  swallowed  up  in  one  of  them.  It  is  plain, 
then,  that  there  is  little  or  no  analogy  between  the  sun  and 
the  earth,  and  we  can,  therefore,  with  difficulty  form  a 
conception  of  anything  going  on  in  a  sun  or  a  star." 

1  Italics  are  mine. 


QUESTIONS.  345 

Uncertainty  of  it.  —  This  kind  of  reasoning  is  more 
uncertain  than  inductive  reasoning.  Jevons  speaks  of  the 
similarity  between  so  many  circumstances  in  the  case  of 
Mars  and  the  earth  as  increasing  the  probability  that  the 
former  is  inhabited  because  the  latter  is,  and  at  the  same 
time  says  that  "  all  we  can  certainly  say  is,  that  if  the  cir- 
cumstances be  really  similar,  and  similar  germs  of  life 
have  been  created  there  as  here,  there  must  be  inhab- 
itants." Need  I  say  that  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case 
we  neither  know  nor  can  know  anything  about  whether 
"  similar  germs  of  life  have  been  created  there  as  here," 
and  that  our  knowledge  of  the  extent  to  which  circum- 
stances are  similar  is  so  limited  that  any  talk  of  probability 
is  absolutely  without  foundation  ?  All  that  the  facts  war- 
rant us  in  saying  is,  that  for  aught  we  know  Mars  may  be 
inhabited,  but  he  who  claims  to  be  able  to  say  that  it 
probably  is,  lays  claim  to  a  larger  amount  of  knowledge 
than  falls  to  the  lot  of  mortals. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  difference  between  induction  and  generalization? 

2.  Show  that  induction  presupposes  generalization. 

3.  State  and  illustrate  the  two  assumptions  that  underlie  nearly 
all  our  inductions. 

4.  What  is  the  law  of  Parsimony  ? 

5.  Define  and  illustrate  argument  from  analogy. 

6.  What  seems  to  you  its  logical  value? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTION. 

Give  illustrations  from  your  own  experience  of  over-hasty  induc- 
tions. 


LESSON   XXXVIII. 

APPERCEPTION. 

WE  have  studied  sensation,  perception,  memory,  imagi- 
nation, conception,  judgment,  and  reasoning  —  all  modes 
of  intellectual  activity.  If  we  pass  them  in  rapid  review 
before  us,  we  shall  see  that  in  all  of  them  the  mind  is 
discriminating  or  noting  differences,  and  assimilating  or 
noting  resemblances. 

Assimilation  and  Discrimination  in  Sensation.— What 
is  it  to  know  a  sensation  ?  It  is  to  discriminate  or  mentally 
separate  it  from  all  other  sensations.  A  child  has  many 
sensations  which  it  does  not  know ;  many  sensations  which 
it  confuses  with  other  sensations.  But  a  sensation  con- 
fused with  other  sensations  is  a  sensation  put  in  the  wrong 
class  —  precisely  as,  if  one  were  sorting  out  ribbons  of 
different  colors,  the  confusing  of  purple  with  blue  would 
lead  to  the  mixing  of  these  two  kinds  of  ribbons. 

In  Perception.  —  So  likewise  in  perception.  The  first 
act  of  the  mind  in  perceiving  is  to  separate  mentally  the 
thing  perceived  from  everything  else.  You  remember 
that,  in  the  lessons  on  Attention,  we  saw  that  what  we 
perceive  depends  upon  what  we  attend  to.  The  mind  in 
attention  simply  singles  out  the  thing  attended  to  from 

346 


IN    MEMORY.  347 

everything  else,  and  that  is  discrimination.  A  dog  may 
stand  before  you,  but  if,  through  preoccupation  or  from 
any  other  cause,  you  do  not  discriminate  it  from  the  objects 
about  it,  you  do  not  know  it.  Discrimination,  however,  is 
not  all  that  is  essential  to  knowledge.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
when  we  discriminate  we  usually  know,  because  assimila- 
tion, or  the  act  of  putting  a  thing  discriminated  into  a 
class,  usually  follows  so  closely  upon  the  act  of  discrimina- 
tion that  the  two  seem  to  be  identical.  But  they  are  not. 
To  pick  a  piece  of  blue  ribbon  out  of  a  scrap  bag  is  one 
thing ;  to  put  it  in  a  box  with  other  blue  ribbons  is  an 
entirely  different  thing.  A  child,  seeing  a  dog,  may  dis- 
criminate it  from  all  other  objects,  but  until  he  perceives 
its  resemblance  to  something  else,  until  he  assimilates  it, 
he  does  not  know  it. 

In  Memory.  —  So  likewise  with  memory.  What  is  it 
to  have  a  perfect  recollection  of  any  event  ?  It  is  to  have 
a  definite  knowledge  both  of  the  event  and  of  the  time 
when  it  happened.  If  the  event  is  indistinct,  it  is  not 
perfectly  remembered,  and  its  indistinctness  is  due  to 
imperfect  discrimination  and  assimilation.  If  we  are  in 
any  doubt  as  to  the  time,  it  is  because  we  do  not  perfectly 
discriminate  it  from  other  times,  and  do  not  perfectly 
assimilate  it  to  other  times.  The  event  happened,  say,  at 
eleven  o'clock  yesterday,  but  I  am  uncertain  whether  it 
was  eleven  or  twelve,  or  whether  it  happened  yesterday  or 
the  day  before  — that  is,  I  do  not  discriminate  the  hour 
and  the  day  when  it  happened  from  all  others. 

Possibly  you  think  that  in  this  latter  case  there  is  no 
assimilation.  Inasmuch  as  in  any  one  place  there  is  but 
one  point  of  time  known  as  eleven  o'clock,  April  26,  1890, 


348  APPERCEPTION. 

the  question  may  be  asked  as  to  how  it  is  possible  for 
assimilation  of  such  a  fact  to  take  place.  The  question 
can  be  readily  answered  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  the  state 
of  mind  corresponding  to  the  fact  "  eleven  o'clock  yester- 
day "  is  a  complex  concept.  Before  a  child  can  know 
what  is  meant  by  "eleven  o'clock  yesterday,"  he  must 
know  the  meaning  of  "yesterday"  and  "eleven  o'clock," 
and  this  is  possible  only  by  discrimination  and  assimilation. 
But  with  the  concepts  of  these  two  facts  as  elements,  all 
that  is  necessary  to  the  formation  of  the  complex  concept 
expressed  by  the  phrase  "  eleven  o'clock  yesterday "  is  a 
synthesis  of  the  two  through  the  exercise  of  the  construc- 
tive imagination.  The  product  of  constructive  imagination 
is,  of  course,  an  image  ;  but  as  we  can  take  the  image  of 
red  color  to  illustrate  the  concept  color,  so  we  can  take 
any  image  to  illustrate  the  corresponding  concept. 

In  Conception.  —  We  have  seen  that  the  three  processes 
involved  in  conception  are  comparison  —  putting  the  atten- 
tion on  two  or  more  objects  at  the  same  time,  discriminating 
them  from  all  other  objects ;  abstraction  —  withdrawing 
the  attention  from  their  unlike  qualities  and  fixing  it  upon 
their  resemblances,  assimilating  them  ;  and  generalization 
—  extending  their  name  to  all  other  objects  having  similar 
qualities  —  a  further  act  of  assimilation. 

In  order  to  judge,  we  must  know  the  subject  and  predi- 
cate ;  and  to  do  this,  we  must  discriminate  and  assimilate 
them.  I  can  not  judge  that  oak  trees  lose  their  leaves  in 
autumn  unless  I  know  what  oak  trees  are,  and  what  is 
meant  by  "  losing  their  leaves  in  autumn."  But  to  know 
oak  trees,  I  must  discriminate  them  from  all  other  trees, 
and  assimilate  them  to  each  other.  The  state  of  mind 


IN    REASONING. 


349 


corresponding  to  the  fact  « losing  their  leaves  in  autumn  " 
is  a  complex  concept ;  and  to  know  its  elements,  as  we 
have  seen,  we  must  assimilate  and  discriminate  them. 

In  Reasoning.  —  The  same  is  true  of  reasoning.  When 
I  say  that  John  is  a  mortal,  since  he  is  a  man  and  all  men 
are  mortal,  my  conclusion  is  the  result  of  two  acts  of 
assimilation  —  the  assimilation  of  John  to  the  class  men, 
and  of  these  to  the  class  mortals. 

When  I  say  that,  since  this  and  that  and  the  other 
unsupported  body  have  fallen,  therefore  all  unsupported 
bodies  will,  I  have  perceived,  in  the  first  place,  the  resem- 
blance between  the  unsupported  bodies  I  have  seen  —  I 
have  assimilated  them  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  have 
assimilated  them  to  all  other  unsupported  bodies. 

Why  so  Many  Kinds  of  Assimilation  and  Discrimina- 
tion?—  Since  all  knowing  consists  to  so  great  an  extent  of 
discrimination  and  assimilation,  how  can  there  be  so  many 
different  kinds  of  knowing  ?  Becatise  tliere  arc  so  many 
different  facts  to  be  discriminated  and  assimilated.  The 
discrimination  and  assimilation  of  single  sensations  leads 
to  the  knowledge  of  sensations  ;  of  groups  of  sensations  to 
the  perception  of  objects  which  result  in  percepts  ;  of  per- 
cepts, to  concepts ;  of  concepts,  to  judgments ;  of  judgments, 
to  conclusions. 

But  does  not  this  answer  leave  the  really  difficult  point 
unexplained  ?  Granting  that  there  are  different  kinds  of 
facts  to  be  discriminated  and  assimilated,  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  they  would  issue  in  different  products.  But  how  is 
it  that  there  are  different  kinds  of  facts?  That  is  the 
really  difficult  question. 


350  APPERCEPTION. 

How  do  Psychical  Facts  Come  to  Be?  —  It  may  seem 
that  to  ask  that  question  is  like  asking  why  there  are  so 
many  different  kinds  of  facts  to  be  known  in  the  universe. 
But  it  is  not.  Granted  that  there  are  things  without,  how 
do  we  come  to  know  them  ?  How  does  that  which  is  there 
somehow  get  to  be  represented  here  in  my  mind  ?  Granted 
also  that  I  have  lived  —  have  laughed  and  wept  and  hoped 
and  feared — have  played  a  part  as  a  conscious  being  in 
this  strange  world.  But  the  past  is  gone,  and  with  it  its 
experiences.  How  is  it  that  I  am  able  to  recollect  them  ? 
How  is  it  that  that  which  was  there  and  then  somehow 
gets  to  be  represented  here  and  now  in  my  mind?  Granted 
also  that  there  are  real  relations  existing  between  real 
things,  how  am  I  able  to  assert  them  ?  That  which  gets 
into  my  mind  is  mental.  How  is  the  merely  mental 
transformed  into  the  non-mental,  the  subjective  into  the 
objective  ? 

These,  you  know,  are  some  of  the  questions  we  have 
been  trying  to  answer,  and  they  help  us  to  realize  what  we 
are  constantly  in  danger  of  forgetting  —  that  our  science, 
instead  of  having  merely  to  discover  the  laws  that  govern 
ready-made  facts,  is  to  a  large  extent  a  science  of  pro- 
cesses —  a  science  that  has  to  discover  how  its  facts  come 
to  be. 

Sensations.  —  How,  then,  do  the  facts  that  we  know  as 
sensations  come  to  exist  ?  In  the  way  already  described  — 
characterless,  indefinite,  and  undifferentiated  experiences, 
but  with  latent  likenesses  and  differences,  begin  to  exist. 
How  these  were  transformed  into  definite  sensations  has 
already  been  explained.  Here  we  have  only  to  note  that 
this  transformation  was  the  mind's  own  work;  that  what 


PERCEPTS.  351 

we  call  a  sensation  is,  in  a  sense,  the  product  of  the  mind's 
own  activity  —  that  this  activity  converted  latent  likenesses 
and  differences  into  a  consciousness  of  likeness  and  dif- 
ference between  definite  sensations. 

Percepts.  —  How  do  percepts  come  to  exist  ?  By  the 
mind's  own  activity.  Sensations  existing  with  certain 
spatial  meanings  come  to  be  known  as  having  those  mean- 
ings. Through  the  native  power  of  the  mind  to  interpret 
the  brogue  of  its  sensations,  to  understand  the  meaning  of 
their  local  signs,  the  mind  arranges  its  sensations  in  space, 
and  the  result  is  a  percept. 

Recollections.  --  How  do  recollections  of  past  ex- 
periences come  to  exist  ?  Again  by  the  mind's  own 
-activity.  Our  experiences  succeed  each  other  in  time. 
That  we  know  that  they  do  results  from  the  activity  of  our 
minds ;  'the  mind  retrojects  some  of  its  images  into  the 
past  through  its  interpretation  of  their  temporal  signs, 
precisely  as  it  projects  some  of  its  sensations  into  space 
through  its  interpretation  of  their  local  signs. 

Judgments.  —  How  do  judgments  come  to  exist  ? 
Through  the  mind's  power  to  apprehend  the  various  rela- 
tions of  reality.  Day  precedes  night.  The  mind  appre- 
hends it,  and  the  result  is  a  judgment.  Hamilton  origi- 
nated the  financial  policy  of  the  Federalist  party.  The 
mind  apprehends  it,  and  the  result  is  a  judgment.  Judg- 
ments are  the  products  of  the  mind's  power  to  apprehend 
the  relations  of  reality. 

In  each  of  these  cases  we  have  to  note  that  it  was  no 
mere  differentiation  and  classification  of  ready-made  facts 


352  APPERCEPTION. 

that  brought  about  the  result.  The  mind  makes  its  sen- 
sations, makes  its  percepts,  makes  its  concepts,  makes  its 
judgments,  and  so  makes  possible  their  discrimination  and 
assimilation. 

Relation  of  Attention  to  these  Mental  Activities.  — 

We  know  also  the  condition  of  these  various  activities. 
But  it  is  only  a  condition.  The  activity  of  attention  is  no 
more  to  be  confused  with  what  results  from  it  than  light 
is  to  be  confused  with  seeing.  The  best  eye  can  not  see 
in  the  dark,  and  the  finest  mind  can  not  elaborate  its  pro- 
ducts without  attention;  but  light  is  not  seeing,  and  atten- 
tion is  not  \ko.  fact-making  activity  of  the  mind. 

Apperception  Defined.  —  We  see  also  in  what  this 
activity  consists.  It  is  a  relating  activity  —  in  sensation, 
bringing  characterless  experiences  into  relations  of  like- 
ness and  difference;  in  perception,  combining  sensations 
into  relations  of  space ;  in  memory,  combining  the  various 
elements  of  experience  into  relations  of  time;  in  concep- 
tion, combining  percepts  into  relations  of  likeness;  in 
judgment,  combining  percepts  and  concepts  into  the 
various  relations  of  reality  apprehended  by  the  mind.  If, 
then,  we  adopt  the  name  usually  applied  to  this  activity 
and  call  it  apperception,  we  see  that  apperception  is  that 
combining  activity  of  the  mind  that  brings  order  and 
harmony  into  our  mental  life  by  transforming  the  con- 
sciousness of  related  facts  "  into  the  consciousness  of 
relations'^ 

Apperception,  then  —  of  which,  indeed,  discrimination 
and  assimilation  are  modes  —  is  the  most  fundamental 

1  See  Baldwin's  Psychology,  p.  65. 


QUESTIONS.  353 

form  of  mental  activity.  It  makes  sensations,  and  then, 
in  the  form  of  discrimination,  separates  those  that  are  un- 
like and  assimilates  those  that  are  alike ;  it  discovers  the 
space  relations  of  sensations,  transforms  them  into  attri- 
butes of  bodies,  and  then  discriminates  the  objects  so 
perceived  that  are  unlike,  and  assimilates  those  that  are 
alike;  it  discerns  the  time  relations  of  mental  facts,  and 
transforms  a  succession  of  experiences  into  a  conscious- 
ness of  succession ;  it  combines  percepts  into  concepts, 
percepts  and  concepts  into  judgments,  judgments  into 
conclusions. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Define  and  illustrate  discrimination  and  assimilation. 

2.  Analyze  sensation,  perception,  memory,  conception,  judgment, 
and  reasoning,  in  order  to  show  that  in  ail  of  them  discrimination 
and  assimilation  take  place. 

3.  Psychology  is  to  a  large  extent  a  science  of  processes  —  what 
is  the  meaning  of  that  ? 

4.  How  does  it  happen  that  discrimination  and  assimilation  issue 
in  such  different  products? 

5.  Define  apperception. 

6.  What  does  apperception  do  in  sensation,  perception,  memory, 
constructive  imagination,  conception,  judgment,  and  reasoning  ? 

7.  What  is  the  condition  of  apperception? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  A  child  saw  a  donkey  and  called  it  a  horse;   a  rabbit,  and 
called  it  a  cat;  a  fox,  and  called  it  a  dog.     Why? 

2.  Report  similar  facts  from  your  own  observation. 


LESSON    XXXIX. 

APPERCEPTION. 

(Continued?) 

IN  the  last  lesson  we  saw  that  perception,  memory, 
imagination,  conception,  judging,  and  reasoning  are  pro- 
cesses of  discrimination  and  assimilation,  exercised  on  dif- 
ferent materials,  and  that  these  different  materials  are 
themselves  products  of  a  more  fundamental  mode  of 
mental  activity,  of  which  discrimination  and  assimilation 
are  forms. 

How  can  Knowledge  Best  be  Imparted  ?  —  This  being 
so,  the  question,  How  can  I  impart  knowledge  most 
clearly  ?  may  be  put  in  another  form.  From  the  point  of 
view  we  have  now  reached,  we  are  able  to  see  that  the 
question  is,  How  can  I  supply  the  conditions  of  appercep- 
tion ?  or,  to  put  it  more  definitely,  though  not  so  accurately, 
How  can  I  enable  my  pupils  to  discriminate  and  assimilate 
most  perfectly  ? 

This  activity  of  apperception  in  any  of  its  forms  consists 
in  the  establishment  of  relation.  If,  then,  a  new  fact  is 
to  be  apperceived,  it  must  be  brought  into  relations  with 
old  facts.  The  unknown  must  be  related  to  the  known. 
Now,  in  order  that  this  may  take  place  —  in  order  that 
this  relation  may  be  established  —  it  is  not  enough  that 

354 


HOW   CAN    KNOWLEDGE    BE    IMPARTED?         355 

the  mind  have  in  the  storehouse  of  memory  concepts  to 
which  the  known  may  be  related  ;  these  concepts  must  be 
brought  out ;  and  the  more  completely  the  whole  of  one's 
past  experience  is  ransacked  for  related  concepts,  the  more 
perfect  will  be  the  apperception  or  assimilation. 

We  can  easily  illustrate  the  truth  of  this  by  appealing 
to  our  own  experiences.  Sometimes  we  read  books  to 
"inform  our  minds,"  or  "to  get  general  information"; 
sometimes  to  get  definite  answers  to  definite  questions. 
Which  do  you  find  the  more  profitable  reading  ?  The  last, 
I  am  sure ;  and  the  reason  is  that  your  whole  knowledge 
of  the  subject  to  which  your  question  relates  is  brought  to 
bear  on  everything  you  find  related  to  it.  Your  "apper- 
ceiving  conceptions  .  .  .  stand,  like  armed  soldiers,  within 
the  strongholds  of  consciousness,  ready  to  pounce  upon  " 
everything  they  can  bring  within  their  grasp.  Read  the 
same  book  with  no  question  in  mind,  and  those  apperceiv- 
ing  conceptions  are  like  soldiers  asleep,  who  let  their  enemy 
go  by  them  undisturbed.  You  get  illustrations  of  the  same 
truth  when  you  re-read  a  book  after  a  considerable  interval. 
If  the  book  is  thoughtful  —  worth  re-reading  —  you  are 
almost  sure  to  find  some  suggestive  or  striking  observation 
that  escaped  your  notice  the  first  time.  I  have  read 
Bagehot's  Physics  and  Politics  many  times,  but  I  do  not 
remember  that  my  attention  was  ever  attracted  to  the  para- 
graph quoted  some  pages  back  until  I  read  it  a  couple  of 
weeks  ago.  When  I  read  it  before,  I  had  "no  receptivity" 
for  it,  either  because  I  had  no  related  concepts  in  my 
mind,  or  because  they  were  in  the  background  of  con- 
sciousness, and  therefore,  like  soldiers  asleep,  unservice- 
able. But  when  I  read  it  two  weeks  ago,  my  attention 
had  been  attracted  to  the  subject  of  the  paragraph  by  my 


356  APPERCEPTION. 

own  observations,  and  so  my  mind  pounced  upon  it  with 
great  eagerness. 

When  you  select  a  subject  for  an  essay  that  interests 
you  very  much,  three  of  four  months  before  the  time  you 
expect  to  write  it,  your  experience  gives  you  illustrations 
of  the  same  truth.  You  scarcely  read  a  single  newspaper, 
or  a  magazine  article,  or  a  novel,  that  does  not  suggest 
some  idea  on  your  subject.  You  suddenly  become  aware 
that  there  is  a  universe  of  thought  as  well  as  a  material 
universe,  and  you  find  your  subject  "  opening  out "  into  it 
in  every  direction.  Without  that  subject  in  mind,  your 
reading  would  have  had  no  such  result ;  your  apperceiving 
conceptions  would  have  been  asleep  ;  their  natural  prey 
would  have  escaped. 

Preparation.  —  These  illustrations  enable  us  to  realize 
that  the  Herbartians  are  right  when  they  say  that  "the 
first  great  function  of  the  teacher  is  to  prepare  the  way 
for  the  rapid  and  efficient  assimilation  of  that  knowledge 
which  the  study  hour  or  tJie  recitation  period  is  to  fur- 
nish" and  that  this  function  consists  in  causing  "to  appear 
in  the  consciousness "  of  the  pupil  "  those  interpreting 
ideas"  that  enable  him  to  assimilate  what  is  presented 
to  him.1 

Before  the  "presentation,"  then,  of  the  matter  of  the 
lesson,  the  pupil's  mind  should  be  prepared  for  it.  We 
have  seen  already  how  much  the  value  of  our  reading  is 
increased  when  we  read  to  get  a  definite  answer  to  a  defi- 
nite question.  Let  us  bear  this  in  mind  when  we  are 
preparing  the  minds  of  our  pupils  for  the  apperception  of 

1  De  Garmo's  Essentials  of  Method,  p.  32. 


PRESENTATION. 


357 


concepts.     Let  us  put  a  definite  question  before  them 
which  it  is  the  aim  of  the  lesson  to  answer. 

When  we  have  stated  clearly  the  object  of  the  lesson, 
we  can  help  him  still  further  by  helping  him  to  array  in 
consciousness  his  apperceiving  conceptions,  so  that  he  will 
be  most  fully  prepared  to  accomplish  the  work.  We  see 
the  connection  between  this  lesson  and  some  preceding 
lesson.  We  should  recall  the  previous  lesson  to  his  mind  ; 
we  should  help  him  to  bring  out  of  the  storehouse  of  his 
memory  everything  that  bears  on  the  lesson.  We  can,  of 
course,  do  this  most  successfully  by  asking  questions, 
because  in  this  way  we  secure  from  him  the  greatest 
amount  of  mental  activity.1 

Presentation.  —  When  in  such  ways  the  mind  of  the 
pupil  is  prepared  for  the  efficient  assimilation  of  the  lesson, 
the  matter  of  the  lesson  should  be  presented  —  the  teacher, 
of  course,  requiring  as  much  of  this  to  be  done  by  the 
pupil  as  possible.  This  subject  of  presentation  has  already 
been  discussed  in  connection  with  the  Objective  Method. 
Presentation  is  nothing  but  a  process  of  getting  "  reality  " 
before  the  mind  of  the  pupil. 

Play  of  the  Mind.  —  But  we  have  seen  that  the  "  play 
of  the  mind  "  there  spoken  of  is,  for  the  most  part,  a  form 
of  apperception  or  assimilation.  If  we  bear  this  in  mind, 
we  can  better  supply  the  conditions  for  it  by  bringing  his 
mind  into  contact  with  those  phases  of  the  reality  in  ques- 
tion that  present  the  most  salient  features  for  the  activity 
of  assimilation. 

i  See  on  this  whole  subject  the  book  already  cited 


358  APPERCEPTION. 

Pedagogical  Principle.  —  To  this  end,  it  will  be  useful 
for  us  to  remember  the  following  principle  :  "  Objects  and 
wholes  of  any  kind  are  more  easily  discriminated  and 
assimilated  —  apperceived  in  general  —  than  qualities 
and  parts''  The  ground  of  it  is  evident.  Objects  and 
wholes  of  any  kind  differ  from  each  other  in  more  marked 
and  striking  ways  than  qualities  and  parts,  and  conse- 
quently can  be  more  easily  discriminated.  Since  they 
also  resemble  each  other  in  a  greater  number  of  particu- 
lars, they  can  be  more  easily  assimilated. 

Proof.  —  You  can  prove  its  truth  by  appealing  to  your 
own  experience.  Which  do  you  recognize  more  easily  and 
certainly  —  your  friends  as  wholes,  or  their  individual 
features  ?  Try  to  describe  the  features  of  your  most  inti- 
mate friends  in  their  absence,  and  you  will  see.  You  will 
often  find  yourself  ludicrously  uncertain  as  to  the  shape  of 
the  nose,  the  color  of  the  eyes  and  hair,  to  say  nothing  of 
less  prominent  features.  All  of  us  likewise  recognize  a 
rose  when  we  see  it,  but  it  requires  the  training  of  the 
botanist  to  point  out  the  qualities  which  distinguish  it  from 
all  other  flowers. 

Assuming  the  truth  of  this  principle,  it  is  evident  that 
we  can  best  assist  our  pupils  to  discriminate  and  assimilate 
by  presenting  to  them  wholes  and  objects  before  parts  and 
qualities. 

Material  Wholes  and  Thought  Wholes. — We  must 
not  limit  the  application  of  this  principle  to  material 
objects  and  material  wholes.  It  applies  to  thought  wholes 
as  well.  Indeed,  strictly  speaking,  all  wholes  are  thought 
wholes  —  wholes  made  by  thought,  wholes  that  are  wholes 


THOUGHT  WHOLES    IN   ARITHMETIC.  359 

because  the  mind  chooses  to  think  of  them  as  such.  There 
is  absolutely  nothing  in  existence  except  the  universe 
which  we  may  not  think  of  as  a  part  if  we  choose,  and 
absolutely  nothing  that  we  can  not  think  of  as  a  whole. 
The  universe,  including  everything,  can  not  be  thought  of 
as  a  part  of  anything  else.  Apart  from  that,  it  is  think- 
ing, and  thinking  only,  which  makes  a  thing  a  part  or 
a  whole. 

Thought  Wholes  in  Arithmetic. —  Many  arithmeticians 
do  not  keep  this  fact  in  mind.  A  fraction  is  often  denned 
as  one  or  more  of  the  equal  parts  of  a  unit,  as  though  units 
were  things  of  fixed  and  unchangeable  values.  I  divide 
an  apple  into  four  equal  parts,  and  you  ask  me  if  one  of 
these  equal  parts  is  a  fourth.  I  do  not  know  how  to  answer 
the  question,  or  rather  the  question  does  not  admit  of  an 
answer  until  it  is  made  more  definite.  If  you  ask  me  what 
I  call  one  of  the  parts  in  relation  to  the  other  three,  I 
answer,  a  unit.  It  is  one  in  relation  to  the  other  three, 
two  in  relation  to  eighths,  four  in  relation  to  sixteenths, 
and  one-fourth  in  relation  to  the  apple.  The  apple  itself 
is  one-fourth  when  considered  in  relation  to  a  group  of 
four  apples,  one-eighth  in  relation  to  a  group  of  eight 
apples,  and  so  on.  As  the  mind  decides  in  what  relations 
it  will  consider  things,  it  is  clear  that  all  wholes,  as  such, 
are  products  of  the  mind.  The  reason  why  certain  wholes, 
as  apples,  oranges,  horses,  dogs,  etc.,  are  thought  of  as 
wholes,  in  a  special  sense,  is  that  the  purposes  of  life  and 
their  relation  to  each  other  make  it  natural  for  the  mind 
to  consider  them  as  such.  If  this  is  clear,  we  may  say 
that  a  whole  is  anything,  mental  or  material,  that  the  mind 
chooses  to  regard  as  a  whole. 


360  APPERCEPTION. 

In  History.  —  Thus  we  may  think  of  the  life  and  public 
services  of  Alexander  Hamilton  as  wholes.  And,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  principle  we  have  been  discussing,  the 
student  will  be  best  assisted  in  getting  clear  ideas  of  the 
life  of  that  great  man  by  having  his  attention  called  to  its 
broad  general  characteristics  first,  before  these  are  modified 
and  qualified.  If  the  student  learns  that  Hamilton  was 
first  a  Tory,  then  a  Democrat,  and  finally  a  believer  in  a 
strongly  centralized  aristocratic  republic,  the  broad  out- 
lines of  Hamilton's  political  creed  lie  before  him.  The 
qualifications  and  specific  description  of  these  character- 
izations will  put  before  him  the  changes  in  and  final 
character  of  Hamilton's  political  creed  with  the  utmost 
definiteness.  So  if  your  object  is  to  give  your  class  a 
clear  idea  of  Hamilton's  public  services,  first  give  them 
a  clear  idea  of  the  great  work  of  his  life — the  strengthen- 
ing and  centralizing  of  the  general  government;  then  they 
are  ready  for  the  details  —  the  measures  and  influences  by 
which  these  ends  were  reached.1 

From  the  Known  to  the  Unknown.  —  That  we  must 
proceed  from  the  known  to  the  unknown  is  another  well- 
established  rule  in  Pedagogy.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say  that  it  is  based  on  the  fact  that  all  knowing  consists 
to  so  great  an  extent  in  discriminating  and  assimilating. 
When  I  learn  a  new  fact  —  till  then,  of  course,  unknown 
—  I  put  it  in  a  class  of  already  known  facts. 

From  the  Simple  to  the  Complex.  —  That  we  must 
proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  from  the  indefinite 
to  the  definite,  from  the  unqualified  to  the  qualified,  is 

1  See  on  this  subject  De  Garmo  on  Method-wholes. 


FROM   THE    SIMPLE   TO   THE    COMPLEX.  361 

another  well-established  pedagogical  rule.  What  is  its 
psychological  basis  ?  Plainly  that  a  simple,  indefinite,  or 
unqualified  fact  or  statement  is  more  easily  discriminated 
and  assimilated  than  a  complex,  definite,  or  qualified  fact 
or  statement.  If  you  are  teaching  a  child  the  form  of  the 
outlines  of  South  America,  you  will  succeed  best  by  ignor- 
ing its  irregularities  in  the  beginning.  With  the  map 
before  him,  make  him  conscious  of  its  general  resemblance 
to  a  triangle  or  a  ham  of  meat,  or  other  familiar  object, 
before  you  try  to  teach  him  how  it  differs  in  shape  from 
them.  If  in  such  ways  you  fix  the  general  outline  in  his 
mind  before  advancing  to  the  details,  you  will  impart  clear 
ideas.  And  why  ?  Because  you  are  working  in  harmony 
with  the  laws  of  his  mind. 

There  is  a  stronger  resemblance  between  the  outline  of 
South  America  and  a  triangle  than  there  is  between  it 
and  any  other  simple  figure,  and  if  the  child  has  a  familiar 
knowledge  of  a  triangle,  he  assimilates  the  general  shape 
of  South  America  as  soon  as  his  attention  is  called  to  it. 
Indeed,  so  far  as  thought  is  concerned,  this  case  comes 
under  the  general  principle  already  spoken  of  —  wholes 
and  objects  are  more  easily  discriminated  and  assimilated 
than  parts  and  qualities.  To  thought,  South  America  has 
the  shape  of  a  triangle  —  a  whole  —  qualified  by  certain 
irregularities.  In  other  words,  just  as  the  mind  grasps  a 
whole  before  it  does  the  parts,  so  it  grasps  the  triangle 
in  South  America  before  it  does  the  deviations  from  a 
triangle.  So  likewise  of  the  unqualified  or  indefinite  in 
relation  to  the  qualified  or  definite.  In  relation  to  thought, 
the  unqualified  and  indefinite  are  wholes,  first  known  as 
such  before  they  are  qualified  and  made  definite,  and  the 
qualities  are  parts. 


362  APPERCEPTION. 

Application.  —  When  we  have  put  our  pupil  in  posses- 
sion of  a  concept,  or  definition,  or  induction,  or  maxim  — 
we  should,  as  the  Herbartians  insist,  help  him  to  vitalize 
his  knowledge  by  helping  him  to  apply  it.1  In  teaching 
history,  for  example,  we  are  constantly  running  upon  some 
truth  about  human  nature,  or  upon  some  law  of  economics 
or  politics.  To  vitalize  this  truth,  the  pupil  must  be  helped 
to  see  its  relation  to  everything  to  which  it  applies  within 
the  range  of  his  knowledge  and  experience. 

Here  we  can  see  the  educational  value  of  "  reviews  "  — 
it  is  to  give  to  the  student's  knowledge  that  familiarity 
that  makes  it  possible  for  him  to  relate  it  properly  to  new 
knowledge,  and  to  use  it  in  acquiring  new  knowledge. 

Reviews.  —  Ordinary  usage  tends  to  promulgate  the 
idea  that  reviews  are  useful  only  to  fix  things  in  the  mind 
of  the  student  in  order  that  he  can  tell  them.  If  they  are 
only  good  for  that,  they  are  hardly  good  for  anything. 
There  are  tljree  stages  of  knowing.  In  the  first,  knowl- 
edge is  merely  implicit ;  the  student  can  not  express  what 
he  knows.  Such  knowledge  is  useful  as  a  foundation  for 
something  better;  but  if  it  never  leaves  that  stage,  it  is 

1  I  can  not  agree  with  Dr.  De  Garmo  and  the  Herbartians  that  this  last 
stage  or  step  always  forms  a  part -of  a  correct  method.  He  holds  that  "(i) 
the  apperception  of  new  facts  in  preparation  and  presentation ;  (2)  the 
transition  from  individual  to  general  notions,  whether  the  latter  appear  as 
definitions,  rules,  principles,  or  moral  maxims ;  and  (3)  the  application  of 
these  general  truths  to  concrete  facts,  i.e.,  the  return  from  universals  to 
particulars,"  are  the  three  "  essential  stages  of  a  correct  method."  I  think 
that  he  makes  this  second  step  much  too  definite,  as  is  evident  from  what 
I  have  said  about  "the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality  "  in  discussing 
the  Objective  Method.  In  some  cases,  as  we  have  seen,  "  the  play  of  the 
mind  "  is  simply  the  appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful.  How  can  such 
appreciation  be  applied  ? 


QUESTIONS.  363 

almost  worthless.  In  the  second,  it  has  become  explicit ; 
the  student  can  tell  what  he  knows,  but  he  does  not  know 
it  fluently  enough,  so  to  speak,  to  use  it  in  thinking.  In 
the  third,  the  student  not  only  knows,  but  knows  so  well 
that  he  can  use  his  knowledge  in  thinking ;  he  can  use  it 
in  acquiring,  and  also  in  illustrating,  new  knowledge.  Such 
knowledge  is  thoroughly  assimilated ;  it  has  become  a  part, 
as  it  were,  of  the  warp  and  woof,  the  flesh  and  bone  and 
blood  of  his  mind.  To  develop  knowledge  into  that  shape 
is  the  great  function  of  reviews. 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1 .  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  last  lesson. 

2.  In  what  does  apperception  consist  ? 

3.  What  light  does  it  throw  on  the  preparation  of  the  pupil's  mind 
for  the  lesson  ?     Illustrate. 

4.  In  what  should  such  preparation  consist  ? 

5.  Explain  the  principle  that  underlies  the  proper  presentation  of 
facts. 

6.  What  is  a  thought  whole  ?     Illustrate. 

7.  Why  should  we  proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  from 
the  known  to  the  unknown,  etc.  ? 

8.  What  are  the  three  "essential  stages"  of  the  Herbartians? 

9.  Criticise  his  statement  of  them. 
10.   What  is  the  function  of  reviews? 

SUGGESTIVE    QUESTION. 

Give  examples  of  De  Garmo's  last  stage,  selected  from  geography, 
history,  and  reading. 


LESSON    XL. 

NATURE   OF   DEVELOPMENT. 

Summary  of  the  Preceding  Chapter.  —  We  have  now 
completed  our  survey  of  the  so-called  intellectual  faculties. 
The  last  chapter  has  enabled  us  to  see  that  this  division  of 
the  mind  into  faculties  is  not  a  fundamental  division  — 
that,  however  convenient  it  may  be  to  speak  of  perception, 
memory,  imagination,  conception,  and  reasoning  as  though 
they  were  distinct  and  separate  powers  of  the  mind,  all  of 
them  are  mere  modes  of  apperception. 

What  the  Training  of  the  Faculties  of  the  Mind 
Means.  —  In  connection  with  the  discussion  of  each  of 
these  modes  of  apperception,  or  faculties,  as  we  may,  to 
save  circumlocution,  continue  to  call  them,  we  have  con- 
sidered the  subject  of  their  training.  At  this  point,  we 
may  profitably  consider  the  question  as  to  what  the  train- 
ing of  these  faculties  means.  Does  the  training  of  the 
faculty  of  observation  mean  the  development  of  the  power 
of  observation  in  general  ?  In  other  words,  does  the 
student  who  increases  his  power  of  observation  by  observ- 
ing plants,  increase  his  powers  to  the  same  extent  —  or 
even  at  all  —  to  observe  the  facts  of  his  mind  ?  Does  the 
student  who  cultivates  his  memory  by  the  study  of  history 

364 


SYMMETRICAL   DEVELOPMENT.  365 

—  his  historical  memory,  we  may  call  it  —  at  the  same 
time  cultivate  his  geological  or  botanical  memory  ?  Does 
the  student  who  cultivates  his  geographical  imagination  at 
the  same  time  cultivate  his  mathematical  imagination  ? 
Does  the  student  who  trains  his  reasoning  power  through 
the  study  of  mathematics  at  the  same  time  train  it  for  the 
study  of  chemistry?  In  a  word,  are  we  to  suppose  that 
the  exercise  of  our  powers  upon  any  subject  matter  trains 
them  to  an  equal  extent  to  deal  with  any  other  subject 
matter  ? 

Symmetrical  Development.  —  Students  familiar  with 
pedagogical  literature  have  already  seen  that  I  am  inquir- 
ing into  the  validity  of  a  time-honored  conception  —  the 
conception  of  symmetrical  development.  The  ordinary  con- 
ception of  education  is  that  it  consists  in  symmetrical 
development,  and  by  symmetrical  development  popular 
thought  supposes  such  a  development  of  the  various  powers 
of  the  mind  as  corresponds  to  their  worth  in  the  mental 
life.  As  reasoning  is  of  more  value  than  memory,  it  should 
receive  more  cultivation,  but  the  cultivation  which  each  of 
them  receives  is  a  cultivation  good  for  any  subject  matter 
whatever.  This  is  the  conception  the  truth  of  which  I  am 
calling  in  question. 

Huxley  on  Education.  —  We  meet  this  conception  in 
so  clear-headed  a  thinker  as  the  late  Professor  Huxley. 
"  That  man,"  he  says,  "  I  think,  has  had  a  liberal  education 
who  has  been  so  trained  in  his  youth  that  his  body  is  the 
ready  servant  of  his  will,  and  does  with  ease  and  pleasure 
all  the  work  that,  as  a  mechanism,  it  is  capable  of ;  whose 
intellect  is  a  clear,  cold  logic-engine,  with  all  its  parts  of 


366  NATURE    OF   DEVELOPMENT. 

equal  strength,  and  in  smooth  working  order ;  ready,  like 
a  steam-engine,  to  be  turned  to  any  kind  of  work,  and  spin 
the  gossamers  as  well  as  forge  the  anchors  of  the  mind ; 
whose  mind  is  stored  with  a  knowledge  of  the  great  and 
fundamental  truths  of  nature,  and  of  the  laws  of  her  opera- 
tions ;  one  who,  no  stunted  ascetic,  is  full  of  life  and  fire, 
but  whose  passions  are  trained  to  come  to  heal  by  a  vig- 
orous will,  the  servant  of  a  tender  conscience ;  who  has 
learned  to  love  all  beauty,  whether  of  nature  or  art ;  to 
hate  all  vileness,  and  to  respect  others  as  himself." 

Is  Huxley's  Opinion  True  ?  —  Are  there  any  men  with 
intellects  of  this  description  ready,  like  a  steam-engine, 
to  be  turned  to  any  kind  of  work,  ready  to  observe  and 
remember  any  classes  of  facts,  to  imagine  any  phases  of 
reality,  to  reason  upon  any  subject  with  equal  facility  ? 
With  the  possible  exception  of  a  few  universal  geniuses 
like  Aristotle,  Shakespeare,  and  Goethe,  have  there  been 
any  men  capable  of  spinning  the  gossamers  as  well  as  of 
forging  the  anchors  of  the  mind  ?  If  not,  it  is  certainly  a 
legitimate  inquiry  whether,  in  trying  to  reach  an  inherently 
impossible  ideal,  we  are  not  losing  valuable  attainable 
goods. 

I  believe  that  the  exercise  of  our  powers  upon  any  class 
of  facts  does  not  train  them  to  the  same  extent  for  exercise 
upon  any  other  class  of  facts;  that  you  can  say  of  the 
same  man  that  he  is  a  good  observer  and  a  bad  observer, 
that  he  has  a  good  memory  and  a  bad  memory,  that  he  has 
great  imaginative  power  and  poor  imaginative  power,  that 
he  is  a  good  reasoner  and  a  poor  reasoner,  according  as 
you  have  in  view  one  subject  matter  or  another  upon  which 
his  powers  are  to  be  exercised. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL   PSYCHOLOGY.  367 

Suggestions  of  Physiological  Psychology.  —  I  call  your 
attention  to  the  support  which  this  proposition  receives 
from  Physiological  Psychology.  In  our  study  of  the  brain 
we  have  learned  that  the  functions  of  the  cerebrum  are 
to  some  extent  localized,  that  the  part  of  the  cerebrum 
especially  active  in  occasioning  sensations  of  color  is  not 
the  part  especially  active  in  connection  with  sensations  of 
smell,  and  so  on.  What  good  reason,  then,  is  there  for 
supposing  that  a  good  observer  of  the  colors  of  objects 
will  be  a  good  observer  of  sounds,  or  that  exercise  in  one 
kind  of  observation  has  the  same  effect  upon  the  mind  as 
another  ?  On  the  contrary,  such  a  view  of  the  facts  sug- 
gests that  we  ought  to  speak  of  the  mind's  poivers  of 
observation,  not  power,  precisely  as  we  have  seen  that  we 
ought  to  speak  of  the  memories,  rather  than  of  the  memory, 
of  the  mind. 

Conclusions  Drawn  from  Experience  in  Case  of  Obser- 
vation.— When  we  study  the  effects  of  exercise  in  observa- 
tion upon  our  minds  and  those  of  the  people  we  know,  we 
find  the  suggestions  of  Physiological  Psychology  abundantly 
confirmed.  The  sailor  who  can  tell  at  a  glance  what  line 
a  steamship  belongs  to,  and  can  detect  land  where  you  can 
not  see  anything,  is  a  very  poor  observer  when  you  get 
him  on  land ;  the  jeweler  who  can  tell  with  ease  whether 
a  stone  is  a  genuine  diamond,  but  who  has  no  skill  in 
distinguishing  the  qualities  of  silks ;  the  wool-buyer  who 
can  tell  the  quality  of  wool  from  the  way  it  feels,  but  who 
can  not  distinguish  one  quality  of  tea  from  another ;  the 
tea-taster  who  can  discriminate  the  qualities  of  different 
teas  with  almost  unerring  accuracy,  but  who  can  scarcely 
distinguish  one  horse  from  another  — are  cases  in  point. 


368  NATURE    OF   DEVELOPMENT. 

The  expression,  Such  and  such  a  man  is  a  good  observer, 
is  always  elliptical.  It  means  that  he  is  a  good  observer  of 
certain  classes  of  facts. 

Memory.  — We  have  already  seen  that  the  same  is  true 
of  memory.  We  recall  how  Dr.  Harris  cultivated  his 
memory  for  dates,  and  then  for  names  —  the  cultivation 
of  the  one  kind  of  memory  was  not  the  cultivation  of  the 
other.  Every  one  knows  that  the  man  in  whose  memory 
certain  kinds  of  facts  "  stick,"  apparently  without  effort 
upon  his  part,  may  remember  facts  in  another  department 
of  thought  only  with  great  difficulty.  The  student  who 
can  not  remember  Latin  and  Greek  forms  may  carry  mul- 
titudes of  chemical  facts  in  his  mind  without  difficulty,  as 
one  who  can  not  remember  mathematical  formulas  may 
remember  psychological  or  historical  facts  with  ease.  How 
easily  the  story-teller  remembers  long-winded  stories,  or 
the  practiced  chess-player  complicated  positions  on  the 
chess-board,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  either  of  them  has 
a  good  memory  for  anything  else. 

Imagination.  —  We  have  seen  that  the  same  is  true 
of  the  imagination.  We  remember  that  not  only  is  it  not 
true  that  the  sort  of  training  which  the  physicist  gives  his 
imagination  in  the  study  of  his  subject  does  not  train 
his  imagination  to  realize  the  facts  of  Psychology,  but 
that  in  some  respects  such  a  training  is  a  positive  dis- 
qualification for  it.  Professor  James  reports  an  incident 
which  illustrates  in  a  very  vivid  way  the  effect  of  the  study 
of  biology  on  fas  psychological  imagination.  "  I  have  heard 
a  most  intelligent  biologist  say  :  '  It  is  high  time  for  scien- 
tific men  to  protest  against  the  recognition  of  any  such 


REASONING.  369 

thing  as  consciousness  in  a  scientific  investigation.' "  The 
imagination  of  this  biologist  was  so  disqualified  by  his 
studies  for  apprehending  the  realities  of  consciousness 
that  it  seemed  absurd  to  him  to  take  any  account  of  them 
at  all !  Each  subject  has  its  appropriate  imagination,  and 
the  cultivation  of  the  imagination  by  exercising  it  upon 
one  subject  matter  is  not  the  cultivation  it  would  receive 
by  exercising  it  upon  another.  Galton  found  that  people 
in  general  society  have  as  a  rule  much  greater  power  to 
imagine  in  definite  and  vivid  ways  the  things  and  events 
of  ordinary  life  than  men  of  science.  The  reason  is  that 
men  of  science  are  engaged  for  the  most  part  in  dealing 
with  the  images  of  symbols,  and  they  therefore  lose  the 
power  to  form  definite  and  clear-cut  images  of  things. 

Reasoning.  —  The  same  is  true  of  reasoning.  Every 
teacher  knows  how  common  it  is  to  meet  students  who 
excel  in  one  study,  but  who  are  below  mediocrity  in  another. 
And  biography  is  crowded  with  examples  which  show  that 
excellence  in  one  field  is  no  warrant  for  inferring  excellence 
in  another.  Charles  Sumner,  excelling  as  a  statesman,  but 
below  mediocrity  as  a  mathematician;  Darwin,  almost 
failing  as  a  student  of  Latin  and  Greek,  but  with  powers 
of  reasoning  in  other  fields  which  have  placed  him  in  the 
very  front  of  the  naturalists  of  the  world;  Sir  William 
Hamilton,  with  powers  as  a  metaphysician  of  the  highest 
order  of  excellence,  but  with  little  capacity  for  mathematics 

are  cases  in  point.     One  may  say  indeed  that  one  of 

the  great  characteristics  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  to 
emphasize  more  and  more  the  value  of  expert  knowledge. 
Who  cares  for  a  mathematician's  opinion  about  currency, 
or  for  an  economist's  opinion  about  mathematics  ?  Who 


37O  NATURE    OF   DEVELOPMENT. 

wishes  to  know  what  a  clergyman  thinks  about  geology, 
or  what  a  geologist  thinks  about  theology  ?  President 
Eliot  well  says :  "  Confidence  in  experts,  and  willingness 
to  employ  them  and  abide  by  their  decisions,  are  among 
the  best  signs  of  intelligence  in  an  educated  individual  or 
an  educated  community."  The  reason  is  not  only  that 
expert  knowledge  is  essential,  but  expert  reasoning.  In 
acquiring  the  knowledge  of  his  specialty,  the  expert  has 
acquired  facility  to  reason  upon  it  so  that  he  is  as  much 
superior  to  the  layman  in  a  certain  kind  of  reasoning 
capacity  as  he  is  in  the  possession  of  a  certain  kind  of 
knowledge. 

Truth  Emphasized  by  the  Notion  of  Symmetrical 
Development.  —  We  seem  justified  in  concluding,  then, 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  universal  training  of  per- 
ception, memory,  imagination,  reasoning.  The  notion  of 
symmetrical  development  has  played  its  part  upon  the 
educational  stage.  It  is  time  for  the  curtain  to  drop  upon 
it  forever.  That  part  has  undoubtedly  been  useful.  The 
idea  of  symmetrical  development  has  helped  us  to  remem- 
ber that  man  is  more  than  intellect  —  that  a  man  whose 
intellect  alone  is  developed  has  a  poor  education,  no  matter 
how  well  developed  his  intellect  may  be,  as  a  man  with 
a  good  deal  of  taste  in  some  directions  is  likely  to  be  a 
drivelling  sentimentalist  without  a  proper  training  of  his 
intellect.  A  conception  which  has  helped  to  keep  such 
facts  before  our  minds  has  rendered  important  service. 
It  has  also  emphasized  the  fact  that  teachers  have  so 
much  difficulty  in  remembering  that  the  proper  training 
of  the  intellect  consists  in  something  more  than  imparting 
knowledge. 


ERRORS   SUGGESTED.  371 

"X 

Errors  Suggested  by  it.  —  But  it  has  also  done  a  good 
deal  of  harm.  Few  educational  experts  to-day  doubt  that 
we  require  our  pupils  to  study  arithmetic  at  least  twice  as 
long  as  we  ought.  Why  do  we  do  it  ?  Because  of  the 
notion  of  symmetrical  development.  With  the  idea  that 
the  study  of  arithmetic  is  especially  adapted  to  train  the 
reasoning  power,  we  put  our  pupils  at  it  when  they  start 
to  school,  and  keep  them  at  it  until  they  enter  the  high 
school,  and  sometimes  even  longer.  The  same  reasoning 
is  used  to  justify  the  vicious  extent  to  which  our  pupils 
are  required  to  study  technical  grammar.  I  can  not 
take  time  to  point  out  the  mischief  which  this  mode  of 
reasoning  has  wrought  in  high  schools  and  colleges  —  to 
show  the  absurdity,  for  example,  of  requiring  American 
citizens  to  study  Latin,  and  not  requiring  them  to  study 
American  history  ;  of  requiring  them  to  study  Greek,  and 
not  requiring  them  to  study  political  economy ;  of  requir- 
ing them  to  study  higher  mathematics,  and  not  requiring 
them  to  study  municipal  government.  Accept  the  theory 
that  the  training  of  the  reasoning  power  upon  one  subject 
is  to  an  equal  extent  a  training  of  it  to  deal  with  any  other 

subject and  such  requirements  are  wise.  Accept  the 

theory  that  we  acquire  the  capacity  to  reason  upon  any 
Subject  matter  by  actually  reasoning  upon  that  subject 
matter  —  and  such  requirements  are  absurd. 

If,  then,  we  must  abandon  the  idea  of  symmetrical 
development  as  the  criterion  by  which  we  are  to  be  guided 
in  the  determining  of  courses  of  study,  what  shall  be  our 
guiding  principle  ?  This  question  I  will  try  to  answer  in 
the  following  lesson. 


372  NATURE   OF   DEVELOPMENT. 

QUESTIONS   ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  meant  by  the  training  of  the  faculties  of  the  mind? 

2.  State  Huxley's  opinion  on  education. 

3.  In  what  particular  was  he  mistaken? 

4.  What  conclusion  does  Physiological  Psychology  suggest? 

5.  What  conclusions  can  we  draw  from  experience  in  the  case  of 
(a)  observation,  (b)  memory,  (c)  imagination,  (d)  reasoning  ? 

6.  What  truth  is  emphasized  by  the  notion  of  symmetrical  develop- 
ment? • 

7.  What  errors  are  suggested  by  it? 


LESSON    XLI. 

THE   END  OF  EDUCATION. 

Herbartian  Conception.  —  The  question  as  to  the  crite- 
rion which  is  to  guide  us  in  selecting  courses  of  study  is 
the  question  as  to  the  end  of  education.  The  Herbartians 
tell  us  that  this  end  is  character.'  Taken  in  the  ordinary 
sense,  as  the  equivalent  of  moral  character,  we  all  know 
that  is  not  true.  All  of  us  are  acquainted  with  men  of 
character  who  are  not  educated. 

Dewey 's  Definition  of  Character.  —  But  I  find  myself 
obliged  to  dissent  from  the  view  that  the  end  of  education 
is  the  development  of  character,  as  character  was  defined 
at  the  recent  (1897)  meeting  of  the  Herbart  Society. 
Said  Dr.  Dewey:  "Character  means  power  of  social  agency, 
organized  capacity  of  social  functioning.  It  means,  as 
already  suggested,  social  insight  or  intelligence,  social 
executive  power,  and  social  interest  or  responsiveness." 
In  other  words  —  according  to  Dr.  Dewey  —  that  man  is 
educated  who  sees  the  needs  of  society,  has  capacity  to 
promote  them,  and  is  disposed  to  do  it. 

It  Regards  Man  Simply  as  a  Member  of  Society.  - 
Why  not   say,  That  man  is  educated  who  sees  his  own 
needs,  —  using  the  expression  in  the  most  comprehensive 

373 


374  THE    END    OF   EDUCATION. 

sense,  —  has  capacity  to  promote  them,  and  is  disposed  to 
do  it  ?  If  you  say  that  the  two  definitions  really  mean 
the  same  thing,  that  they  are  descriptive  of  two  sides  of 
the  same  fact,  I  beg  to  dissent.  Dr.  Deweys  definition 
regards  man  as  simply  a  member  of  society;  the  defini- 
tion suggested  as  a  substitute  regards  man  as  an  individ- 
ual. The  ancient  conception  was  that  the  end  of  man 
was  to  serve  the  state,  and  that  the  object  of  education 
was  to  qualify  him  for  it.  As  it  may  seem  at  first  sight 
that  it  makes  no  difference  whether  you  state  the  end  of 
education  in  terms  that  relate  to  the  individual,  or  in  terms 
that  relate  to  society,  so  it  may  seem  that  it  could  not  have 
made  any  difference  whether  the  old  Greeks  stated  their 
conception  of  education  in  terms  that  related  to  the  state, 
or  in  terms  that  related  to  the  individual.  But  when  we 
find  practices  which  we  abhor  defended  on  the  principle 
that  the  individual  exists  for  the  state  —  practices  such  as 
slavery,  the  killing  of  feeble  or  deformed  children,  the 
treatment  of  barbarians  as  a  race  essentially  inferior  to 
the  Greeks  —  it  becomes  evident  that  a  conception  which 
ignores  the  value  and  significance  of  man  as  an  individual 
is  not  only  false,  but  that  it  leads  to  pernicious  practical 
consequences. 

Difference  between  Dewey's  Conception  and  that  of 
the  Ancient  Greeks.  -  -  The  difference  between  Dr. 
Dewey's  conception  and  that  of  the  ancient  Greeks  is  that 
he  puts  "  society "  in  the  place  of  the  state.  As  a  man, 
according  to  the  ancient  Greeks,  was  nothing  but  a  citizen, 
so,  according  to  Dr.  Dewey,  he  is  nothing  but  a  member 
of  society.  As  the  individual,  according  to  the  ancient 
conception,  existed  for  the  state,  so,  according  to  Dr. 


PRACTICAL  DEDUCTIONS.  375 

Dewey,  he  exists  for  the  sake  of  society.  "  He  lives  in,  for, 
and  by  society."  And  as  we  have  found  pernicious  prac- 
tical consequences  growing  out  of  the  notion  that  man 
was  nothing  but  a  citizen,  so  we  shall  find  pernicious  prac- 
tical proposals  based  on  the  notion  that  man  is  nothing  but 
a  member  of  society. 

Practical  Deductions.  —  "As  to  methods,"  says  Dr. 
Dewey,  "this  principle"  -that  man  exists  for  society, 
and  that  the  school  should  be  a  social  community  which 
reflects  and  organizes  the  fundamental  principles  of  all 
community  life — "when  applied  means  that  emphasis 
must  be  upon  construction  and  giving  out,  rather  than 
upon  absorption  and  mere  learning.  We  fail  to  recognize 
how  essentially  individualistic"  —note  the  word  —  "the 
latter  methods  are,  and  how  unconsciously,  yet  certainly 
and  effectively,  they  react  into  the  child's  ways  of  judging 
and  of  acting.  Imagine  forty  children  all  engaged  in 
reading  the  same  books,  and  in  preparing  and  reciting  the 
same  lessons  day  after  day.  Suppose  that  this  constitutes 
by  far  the  larger  part  of  their  work,  and  that  they  are  con- 
tinually judged  from  the  standpoint  of  what  they  are  able 
to  take  in  in  a  study  hour,  and  to  reproduce  in  a  recitation 
hour.  There  is  next  to  no  opportunity  here  for  any  social 
or  moral  division  of  labor}-  There  is  no  opportunity  for 
each  child  to  work  out  something  specifically  his  own, 
which  he  may  contribute  to  the  common  stock,  while  he, 
in  turn,  participates  in  the  productions  of  others.  All  are 
set  to  do  exactly  the  same  work  and  turn  out  the  same 
results.  The  social  spirit  is  not-  cultivated —  in  fact,  in 

1  Italics  not  in  the  original. 


376  THE    END    OF   EDUCATION. 

so  far  as    this    method  gets   in   its   work,    it  gradually 
atrophies  for  lack  of  use"* 

Criticism.  —  Would  Dr.  Dewey  have  the  forty  pupils 
read  forty  different  books  in  order  to  make  "  a  moral 
division  of  labor "  ?  Would  he  have  teachers  set  their 
pupils  to  work  with  a  view  to  the  needs  of  the  individual 
pupils,  or  with  a  view  to  the  needs  of  the  school  as  a 
social  community  ?  Is  the  method  which  lays  emphasis 
upon  construction  less  individualistic  than  the  method 
which  lays  emphasis  upon  absorption  ?  Is  the  method  which 
lays  emphasis  upon  "giving  out"  good  primarily  because 
of  its  moral  effects  or  because  of  its  effect  upon  the  intel- 
lect of  the  individual  pupil  ?  Is  there  any  moral  differ- 
ence between  "  absorption  "  and  "  giving  out  "  ?  Shall  I 
set  my  pupils  a  task  in  which  the  emphasis  is  laid  upon 
"  construction  "  and  "  giving  out,"  not  because  that  sort 
of  work  is  good  for  them  intellectually,  but  because  of  its 
supposed  moral  advantages  ?  Shall  I  sacrifice  the  intellec- 
tual good  of  my  pupils  for  the  supposed  needs  of  the 
school  as  a  social  community  ? 

Test  of  Good  and  Bad  Methods.  —  The  truth  is,  if  the 
method  which  lays  emphasis  upon  absorption  is  a  bad 
method,  it  is  not  because  it  is  individualistic,  but  because 
it  is  not  individualistic  enough.  It  deals  too  superficially 
with  the  individual.  If  the  method  which  lays  emphasis 
upon  construction  is  a  good  method,  it  is  because  it  has 
proper  regard  for  the  individual.  The  method  which  lays 
emphasis  upon  absorption  is  not  a  bad  method  because  of 
its  moral  effects ;  nor  is  the  method  which  lays  emphasis 

1  Third  Year-book  of  the  National  Herbart  Society,  pp.  15-16. 


THE    PROPER    STIMULUS.  377 

upon   construction  a  good  method  because  of  its  moral 
excellences. 

The  Proper  Stimulus.  —  Dr.  Dewey  says  that  the 
absorptive  method  inculcates  "positively  individualistic 
motives  and  standards."  "Some  stimulus  will  be  found 
to  keep  the  child  at  his  studies.  At  the  best  this  will  be 
his  affection  for  his  teacher,"  etc.  Why  not  interest  in 
his  work  ?  Does  not  every  teacher  know  that  this  is  the 
motive  to  which  we  must  successfully  appeal  if  we  are  to 
get  the  best  results  ?  "  But  unfortunately  the  motive  (of 
affection  for  the  teacher)  is  always  mixed  with  lower 
motives  which  are  distinctly  individualistic."  Fear  enters 
in,  "  the  fear  of  losing  the  approbation  of  others ;  fear  of 
failure  so  extreme  and  sensitive  as  to  be  morbid.  On  the 
other  side,  emulation  and  rivalry  enter  in.  Just  because 
all  are  doing  the  same  work,  and  are  judged  (both  in 
recitation  and  in  examination,  with  reference  to  grading 
and  to  promotion)  not  from  the  standpoint  of  their  motives 
or  the  ends  which  they  are  trying  to  reach,  the  feeling  of 
superiority  is  unduly  appealed  to." 

Dr.  Dewey  on  Promotion. — If  the  last  sentence  means 
anything,  it  means  that  pupils  are  to  be  graded  and  pro- 
moted not  according  to  their  capacity  to  work,  but  from 
the  standpoint  of  their  motives  !  A  boy  is  to  be  promoted 
from  one  class  in  arithmetic  to  another  not  because  he  is 
able  to  do  the  work  in  the  advanced  class,  but  because  of 
the  high  moral  purpose  that  animates  him !  And  how  is 
it  that  Dr.  Dewey  has  failed  to  see  that  fear  of  failure  to 
do  constructive  work  may  likewise  be  morbid  ;  that  emula- 
tion and  rivalry  may  as  easily  step  in  in  connection  with 


378  THE    END    OF    EDUCATION. 

that  kind  of  work  as  in  connection  with  any  other  ?  The 
natural  incentive  to  study  is  interest  in  the  work  done. 
Whoever  relies  upon  any  other  motive  relies  upon  a  com- 
paratively artificial  motive.  These  two  propositions,  it 
seems  to  me,  are  self-evident:  (i)  When  I  set  a  pupil  a 
given  task,  I  ought  to  have  in  view  his  entire  needs  as  an 
individual,  and  not  as  a  member  of  society  simply  ;  (2)  such 
work  gives  him  the  best  stimulus  to  work  because  it  is 
best  fitted  to  arouse  his  interest. 

Contrast  between  the  Needs  of  a  Pupil  as  an  In- 
dividual, and  his  Needs  as  a  Member  of  Society.  —  If  it 
be  said  that  I  am  drawing  a  contrast  where  none  exists, 
the  contrast  between  the  needs  of  the  pupil  as  an  individ- 
ual, and  his  needs  as  a  member  of  society,  I  reply  in  the 
first  place  that  I  am  simply  following  Dr.  Dewey's  example. 
It  is  he  who  suggests  that  pupils  shall  be  graded  and  pro- 
moted not  according  to  their  capacities  —  their  needs  as 
individuals  —  but  according  to  their  needs  as  members  of 
society.  In  the  second  place,  I  am  unable  to  believe  that 
the  needs  of  the  pupil  as  an  individual,  and  his  needs  as  a 
member  of  society  are  identical.  Is  not  the  pleasure  which 
a  student  feels  in  study  one  thing,  and  is  not  the  pleasure 
he  experiences  as  he  reflects  upon  the  service  which  knowl- 
edge of  the  subject  will  enable  him  to  render  to  his  fellows 
another  ?  Is  not  the  perception  of  the  beauty  of  a  land- 
scape, or  a  flower,  or  a  picture,  or  a  poem  one  thing,  and 
is  not  the  social  use  and  consequence  of  that  perception  a 
different  thing  ?  Should  we  try  to  help  our  pupils  appre- 
ciate the  beauty  of  nature  and  art  for  their  own  sakes  as 
individuals,  or  for  the  social  uses  and  consequences  of  such 
perceptions  ? 


THE    INDIVIDUAL    IS    OF  SUPREME  VALUE.      379 

If  it  were  true  that  the  needs  of  the  pupil  as  an  individ- 
ual and  his  needs  as  a  member  of  society  coincided,  I 
should  still  protest  in  the  interests  of  right  thinking  against 
Dr.  Dewey's  putting  of  the  question.  On  that  supposition, 
it  is  surely  more  rational  to  say  that  the  ultimate  reason 
for  the  work  which  we  require  of  pupils  is  that  by  doing  it 
they  promote  their  own  highest  ends.  For  unless  the  pupil 
has  felt  the  value  and  significance  of  his  own  life  as  an 
individual,  how  can  he  be  expected  to  feel  the  value  and 
significance  of  the  lives  of  the  individuals  who  compose 
society  ? 

The  Individual  the  Thing  of  Supreme  Value.  —  As  I 

conceive  it,  the  Herbartian  conception  ignores  the  truth 
which  all  history  has  been  struggling  to  teach  —  that  the 
thing  of  supreme  value  and  worth  in  this  world  is  the  in- 
dividual. What  can  you  do  for  the  individual?  is  the 
question  which  we  should  put  to  schools,  churches,  forms 
of  government  —  institutions  of  every  description.  Not  the 
man  for  the  state,  as  the  old  Greeks  taught,  but  the  state 
for  the  man  ;  not  the  man  for  the  Church,  as  the  Middle 
Ages  taught,  but  the  Church  for  the  man ;  not  the  pupil 
for  the  school,  as  Dr.  Dewey  teaches,  but  the  school  for 

the  pupil. 

If,  then,  we  must  reject  the  notion  that  the  end  of 
education  is  symmetrical  development,  and  the  Herbartian 
conception,  that  it  is  the  development  of  character,  what 
shall  we  take  as  our  goal  ? 

Preparation  for  Rational  Living  the  Object  of  Educa- 
tion. —  Perhaps  it  is  impossible  to  answer  this  question 
more  definitely  than  by  saying  that  the  object  of  education 


380  THE    END    OF   EDUCATION. 

should  be  preparation  for  wise  and  rational  living ;  com- 
plete living,  Rousseau  and  Herbert  Spencer  have  called  it, 
wise  and  rational  living  not  only  in  society,  but  in  all  the 
relations  of  life.  Many  people  suppose  that  the  object  of 
education  is  the  communication  of  knowledge.  Manifestly 
that  is  a  part  of  education.  For  how  can  I  act  wisely 
without  knowledge  ?  How  can  I  take  proper  care  of  my 
health  without  some  knowledge  of  hygiene  ?  How  can  I 
train  my  child  intelligently  without  some  knowledge  of 
Psychology?  How  can  I  vote  intelligently  without  some 
knowledge  of  economics  and  history  ?  How  can  I  render 
these  services  to  society  upon  the  performance  of  which  my 
livelihood  depends  without  knowledge  ?  Popular  thought 
errs,  therefore,  by  taking  a  part  of  the  truth  for  the 
whole. 

And  the  same  is  true  of  the  Herbartian  conception. 
All  of  us  are  members  of  society.  A  part  of  our  lives  is 
as  members  of  society.  But  a  man  prepared  to  live  wisely 
and  rationally  as  a  member  of  society  only,  would  not  be 
prepared  for  complete  living ;  he  would  not  be  prepared  to 
live  wisely  and  rationally  in  all  of  the  relations  of  life. 

Elements  of  it.  —  What  constitutes  preparation  for 
rational  living  ?  Not  social  insight,  social  executive  power, 
and  social  interest  or  responsiveness  simply,  as  Dr.  Dewey 
supposes,  but  insight  into  my  own  needs,  and  those  of 
society  in  so  far  as  it  is  related  to  me,  ability  to  act  accord- 
ingly, and  the  disposition  so  to  act.  Jn  other^ wordsj—  the 
possession  of  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge ;  a  certain  dis- 
cipline of  the  intellect ;  a  certain  responsiveness  of  the 
emotions ;  a  certain  training  of  the  will.  I  must  have 
knowledge  ;  I  must  be  able  to  make  the  proper  application 


A   CERTAIN    KIND    OF  KNOWLEDGE.  381 

of  my  knowledge  ;  I  must  be  disposed  to  do  it  ;  I  must  be 
able  to  act  on  my  disposition. 

(1)  The  Possession  of  a  Certain  Kind  of  Knowledge. — 

( I )  The  possession  of  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge.  What 
kind  ?  That  which  bears  on  action  and  legitimate  enjoy- 
ment. Whatever  I  need  to  know  in  order  to  act  wisely 
and  enjoy  rationally  the  pleasures  of  life,  my  education 
should  have  taught  me,  or  put  me  in  a  position  to  acquire. 

(2)  Of  a  Certain  Discipline  of  the  Intellect.  —(2)  The 
possession  of  a  certain  discipline  of  the  intellect.  Dr.  Dewey 
insists  on  the  importance  of  constructiveness  in  contrast 
with  mere  absorption,  and  wisely,  though  for  an  unwise 
reason.     Constructiveness  and  thought  are  essential,  be- 
cause without  them  our  pupils  will  not  acquire  the  power 
to  make  a  wise  use  of  their  knowledge.     Without  proper 
knowledge  we  can  not  act  wisely,  without  ability  to  draw 
the  proper  inferences  from  our  knowledge  and  make  the 
proper  applications  of  it  we  are  equally  incapable  of  wise 
action. 

(3)  Of  a  Certain  Responsiveness  of  the  Emotions.  - 

(3)  A  certain  responsiveness  of  the  emotions.  Our  emo- 
tions constitute  what  I  may  call  the  worth-giving  side  of 
our  natures,  that  side  of  our  nature  which  determines  our 
estimate  of  things.  Now,  as  Davidson  says,  "it  is  not 
enough  for  a  man  to  understand  the  conditions  of  rational 
life  in  his  own  time,  he  must  likewise  love  these  conditions, 
and  hate  whatever  leads  to  life  of  an  opposite  kind.  This 
is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  he  must  love  the  good 
and  hate  the  evil ;  for  the  good  is  simply  what  conduces 


382  THE    END    OF   EDUCATION. 

to  rational  or  moral  life,  and  the  evil  simply  what  leads 
away  from  it.  It  is  perfectly  obvious,  as  soon  as  it  is 
pointed  out,  that  all  immoral  life  is  due  to  a  false  distribu- 
tion of  affection,  which  again  is  often,  though  by  no  means 
always,  due  to  a  want  of  intellectual  cultivation.  He  that 
attributes  to  anything  a  value  greater  or  less  than  it  really 
possesses  in  the  order  of  things  has  already  placed  himself 
in  a  false  relation  to  it,  and  will  certainly,  when  he  comes 
to  act  with  reference  to  it,  act  immorally,"  and,  therefore, 
unwisely. 

(4)  Of  a  Certain  Training  of  the  Will.  —  (4)  A  certain 
training  of  the  will.  "  But  again  it  is  not  enough," 
Davidson  continues,  "for  a  man  to  understand  correctly 
and  love  duly  the  conditions  of  moral  life  in  his  own  time ; 
he  must,  still  further,  be  willing  and  able  to  fulfill  these 
conditions.  And  he  certainly  can  not  do  this  unless  his 
will  is  trained  to  perfect  freedom,  so  that  it  responds,  with 
the  utmost  readiness,  to  the  suggestions  of  his  discriminat- 
ing intelligence  and  the  movements  of  his  chastened 
affections."1 

Respect  for  Expert  Knowledge.  —  There  is  one  char- 
acteristic of  a  man  prepared  to  live  wisely  in  our  demo- 
cratic country  of  such  overriding  importance  that  I  can 
not  omit  to  mention  it,  the  less  so  as  I  may  seem  to  have 
fallen  into  the  same  error  which  vitiates  Spencer's  reason- 
ing in  his  essay  on  "  What  Knowledge  is  of  Most  Worth," 
the  mistake  of  supposing  that  the  individual  ought  to  be 
taught  all  that  the  society  of  which  he  is  a  member  needs 

1  Davidson's  Greek  Education,  p.  9. 


QUESTIONS.  383 

to  know.  //  should  be  a  primary  object  of  our  teaching  to 
develop  in  our  pupils  a  sense  of  respect  for,  and  of  the 
importance  of  expert  knowledge. 

I  have  already  quoted  one  sentence  from  President  Eliot 
bearing  on  this  point.  Let  me  quote  another  :  "  Democ- 
racies will  not  be  safe  until  the  population  has  learned 
that  governmental  affairs  must  be  conducted  on  the  same 
principles  on  which  successful  private  and  corporate  busi- 
ness is  conducted  and  therefore  it  should  be  one  of  the 
principal  objects  of  democratic  education  so  to  train  the 
minds  of  the  children  that  when  they  become  adult  they 
shall  have  within  their  own  experience  the  grounds  of 
respect  for  the  attainments  of  experts  in  every  branch  of 
governmental,  industrial,  and  social  activity,  and  of  con- 
fidence in  their  advice."1 

QUESTIONS   ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  Compare  Dewey's  conception  of  education  with  that  of  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  the  people  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

2.  Criticise  it  at  length. 

3.  What  is  the  object  of  education  ? 

4.  What  kind  of  training  is  required  for  rational  living  ? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Do  you  agree  with  the  Herbartians  that  arithmetic  may  be 
made  a  means  of  much  cultivation  ? 

2.  What  do  you  think  is  the  chief  resource  of  the  school  in  the 
way  of  moral  training  ?     In  the  way  of  the  training  of  the  will  ? 

1  Outlook,  Nov.  6,  1897,  p.  573- 


LESSON   XLII. 

THE   STUDY   OF   INDIVIDUALS. 

Importance  of  the  Study  of  Children. —  "All  the  roads 
in  the  Roman  Empire  led  to  the  city  of  Rome."  At  every 
turn  and  corner  in  our  study  of  our  subject,  we  have  seen 
that  successful  teaching  demands  a  close,  careful,  and 
systematic  study  of  children.  At  this  stage  in  the  history 
of  the  world,  men  have  come  to  realize  clearly  the  fact 
that,  no  matter  what  happens  in  the  physical  world-  there 
is  a  cause  for  it.  If  a  watch  stops,  or  a  lock  refuses  to 
act,  we  know  that  there  is  a  cause  for  it,  and  that  a  patient 
study  of  the  facts  of  the  case  may  enable  us  to  discover 
and  remove  it.  That  is  precisely  the  attitude  which  we 
should  take  toward  our  pupils.  If  they  are  not  interested 
in  any  particular  subject,  if  they  are  inattentive,  if  they 
do  not  like  to  go  to  school,  there  is  a  cause  for  it,  and  it  is 
our  business  to  learn  what  it  is.  Let  us  not  be  guilty  of 
the  stupidity  of  saying  that  some  boys  "naturally"  dislike 
school.  That  is  an  easy  explanation  to  which  lazy  teachers 
have  a  great  tendency  to  resort.  But  it  has  a  painful  like- 
ness to  some  of  the  explanations  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
"  Moving  bodies  have  a  natural  tendency  to  stop,"  said 
the  scholars  of  that  time.  "  Some  boys  naturally  dislike 
books,"  say  many  of  our  teachers  now.  Precisely  as  a 
more  careful  study  of  the  facts  has  thoroughly  discredited 

384 


CHANGE    IN    PEDAGOGICAL   STUDY.  385 

the  former  explanation,  so  I  believe  a  careful  study  of  the 
facts  will  thoroughly  discredit  the  latter. 

Change  in  Pedagogical  Study.  —  That  the  importance 
of  the  study  of  children  is  beginning  to  be  generally 
recognized  is  one  of  the  most  encouraging  signs  of  the 
times.  In  the  beginning  of  the  study  of  Pedagogy  in  this 
country,  it  was  confined  almost  entirely  to  a  study  of 
methods.  Later,  it  was  seen  that  the  most  fruitful  study 
of  Pedagogy  includes  a  study  of  the  principles  that  under- 
lie methods ;  that  in  order  to  know  how  to  deal  with  the 
human  mind,  we  must  know  why  we  deal  with  it  thus  and 
so ;  and  that  to  know  the  why  of  our  procedure,  we  must 
know  the  laws  that  govern  it.  And  little  by  little  educators 
have  come  to  see  that,  after  all,  the  text-book  on  Psychology 
which  it  is  of  most  importance  for  teachers  to  study  is  one 
whose  pages  are  ever  open  before  them  —  the  minds  of 
their  pupils,  and  the  children  with  whom  they  come  in 
contact.  Never  before  in  the  history  of  the  world  was 
the  importance  of  the  study  of  Psychology  to  teachers 
so  generally  recognized  as  now.  But,  suggestive  as  a 
knowledge  of  it  is  to  thoughtful  and  intelligent  teachers, 
the  best  result  to  be  expected  from  it  is  the  development 
of  what  Dr.  Josiah  Royce  calls  the  psychological  spirit1  — 
the  habit  of  observing  children  —  and  of  the  power  to  turn 
that  spirit  to  the  utmost  possible  account.  In  the  first 
two  chapters,  we  considered  the  benefits  of  the  study  of 
Psychology  to  the  teacher.  The  conclusions  there  reached 
were  such  as  seemed  evident  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  independently  of  any  special  conclusions  that  our 
study  of  the  mind  would  enable  us  to  reach.  And  while 

1  Educational  Review,  February,  1891. 


386  THE    STUDY   OF  INDIVIDUALS. 

I  believe  that  we  shall  all  agree  that  the  claims  there  made 
for  it  are  fully  borne  out  by  the  facts,  I  think  we  shall 
feel  that  if  our  study  has  made  us  more  interested  in  the 
growth  and  development  of  the  minds  of  children,  more 
disposed  to  study  them,  less  ready  to  dogmatize  about 
them,  more  eager  to  learn  by  actual  observation  what  they 
can  do  and  what  they  can  not  do,  what  they  like  and  what 
they  do  not  like,  the  result  of  our  study  will  be  of  incom- 
parably greater  value  than  any  there  insisted  on. 

Psychology  and  Education,  —  Because  Psychology  un- 
doubtedly underlies  the  science  of  education,  I  have  seen 
what  I  can  not  but  regard  as  a  disposition  to  overestimate 
its  importance.  The  opinion  seems  to  be  entertained  in 
some  quarters  that  every  teacher  should  be  a  specialist  in 
Psychology.  If  by  that  is  meant  that  he  must  keep  well 
abreast  of  psychological  research,  or  that  he  should  even 
be  especially  interested  in  current  psychological  literature, 
I  enter  my  emphatic  dissent.  Many  an  excellent  teacher 
undoubtedly  reproaches  himself  for  his  lack  of  interest  in 
it,  forgetting  that  it  is  as  impossible  for  every  teacher  to 
have  a  special  interest  in  Psychology  as  it  is  for  them  all 
to  have  a  special  interest  in  mathematics  or  chemistry. 
By  no  such  criterion  should  a  teacher  test  his  adaptation 
for  his  work.  But  if  a  teacher  finds  himself  without  inter- 
est in  children,  if  he  has  no  disposition  to  investigate  the 
causes  of  the  facts  that  thrust  themselves  upon  him  every 
day,  if  he  finds  himself  disposed  to  be  content  with  merely 
verbal  explanations  —  "stupidity,"  "prejudice,"  "natural 
dislike  of  the  subject,"  "bad  home  surroundings,"  "ugli- 
ness," etc.,  I  would  respectfully  suggest  that  he  carefully 
consider  whether  he  has  not  mistaken  his  vocation.  A 


DOCTRINE  OF  APPERCEPTION.        387 

specialist  in  Psychology  every  teacher  should  not  be; 
special  and  careful  students  of  the  minds  of  their  pupils 
all  teachers  should  be. 

I  do  not,  of  course,  undervalue  the  study  of  psychologi- 
cal literature.  But  I  do  believe  that  the  greatest  practical 
benefit  it  can  render  to  the  teacher  consists  in  the  help  it 
can  give  him  in  his  study  of  children. 

Doctrine  of  Apperception  Shows  the  Necessity  of 
Studying  Children.  —  Our  study  of  apperception  will  en- 
able us  to  see  how  indispensable  is  the  study  of  children. 
Whether  we  are  perceiving,  remembering,  imagining,  con- 
ceiving, judging,  or  reasoning,  we  are  alike  apperceiving. 
But  apperception  is  the  relating  activity  of  the  mind,  the 
activity  by  which  a  thing  the  mind  is  engaged  in  knowing 
is  brought  into  relation  with  something  the  mind  already 
knows.  In  order,  then,  that  the  event  which  we  call 
knowledge  may  take  place  in  the  mind,  two  conditions 
must  be  realized  :  (i)  ideas  must  exist  in  the  mind  of  the 
pupil  with  which  the  thing  to  be  known  can  be  brought 
into  conscious  relation ;  and  (2)  the  relation  to  be  estab- 
lished by  the  particular  kind  of  knowledge  must  be  one 
which  the  mind  is  capable  of  perceiving. 

Contents  of  Children's  Minds.  —  No  one  but  a  careful 
student  of  children  will  avoid  assuming  that  they  know 
what  they  do  not  know,  and,  therefore,  that  they  can 
understand  what  they  do  not  understand.  Educational 
journals  have  been  emphasizing  this  point  to  such  an  ex- 
tent of  late  years  that  it  would  seem  that  the  bare  mention 
of  it  ought  to  be  sufficient.  Nevertheless,  its  importance 
is  so  great  that  I  beg  to  quote  a  summary  of  the  results  of 


388  THE    STUDY    OF    INDIVIDUALS. 

the  examination  of  some  children  in  Germany :  "  It  was 
found  in  thirty-three  "people's  schools  in  the  Vogtland,  in 
the  examination  of  the  newly  entered  six-year-old  children 
in  June  of  the  year  1878,  that  of  500  city  children  ques- 
tioned, 82  per  cent  had  no  idea  of  'sunrise,'  and  77  per  cent 
none  of  '  sunset ' ;  37  per  cent  had  never  seen  a  grainfield, 
49  per  cent  had  never  seen  a  pond,  80  per  cent  a  lark, 
and  82  per  cent  an  oak ;  37  per  cent  had  never  been  in 
the  woods,  29  per  cent  never  on  a  river  bank,  52  per  cent 
never  on  a  mountain,  50  per  cent  never  in  a  church, 
57  per  cent  never  in  a  village,  and  81  per  cent  had  not 
yet  been  in  the  castle  of  Plauen ;  72  per  cent  could  not 
tell  how  bread  is  made  out  of  grain,  and  49  per  cent  knew 
nothing  yet  of  God.  Similar  conditions  were  shown  in  a 
factory  village  in  the  neighborhood  of  Reichenbach.  In 
that  place  of  17  children  only  two  knew  any  river,  and 
what  these  called  a  river  was  a  shallow  ditch ;  only  two 
knew  anything  of  God,  and  one  of  these  thought  of  the 
clouds  instead.  Relatively  much  more  favorable  results 
were  obtained  in  the  examination  in  the  other  village 
schools.  Of  the  300  elementary  scholars  in  these  only 
8  per  cent  had  never  seen  a  grainfield,  14  per  cent  had 
never  seen  a  pond,  30  per  cent  a  lark,  and  43  per  cent  an 
oak  ;  only  14  per  cent  had  never  been  in  the  woods, 
1 8  per  cent  on  the  bank  of  a  creek  or  river,  26  per  cent  on 
a  mountain,  51  per  cent  in  a  church;  only  37  per  cent 
could  not  tell  how  bread  comes  from  grain ;  and  34  per  cent 
knew  nothing  of  God." 1  The  investigations  of  President 
Hall  and  Superintendent  Greenwood  showed  the  same 
diversity  in  the  contents  of  children's  minds ;  the  same 
lack  of  acquaintance  with  many  things  the  knowledge  of 

1  Lange's  Apperception,  p.  i6i< 


ABILITY  TO   APPREHEND    RELATIONS.  389 

which  the  teacher  is  likely  to  presuppose.  Manifestly,  if 
we  hope  to  bring  about  that  relating  activity  in  the  minds 
of  our  pupils  in  which  all  apperception  consists,  we  must 
see  to  it  that  they  have  the  proper  ideas  in  their  minds. 

Ability  to  Apprehend  Relations  can  not  be  Ascer- 
tained in  any  A  Priori  Way.  —  But  the  second  condition 
is  just  as  important,  and,  like  the  first,  it  can  be  ascertained 
only  by  the  study  of  individual  children.  Whether  a  pupil 
can  bring  an  idea  which  I  wish  to  impart  to  him  into  the 
required  relation  to  something  he  already  knows  depends 
on  his  power  to  apprehend  the  relation.  When  can 
children  learn  numbers  ?  As  soon  as  they  can  perceive 
numerical  relations.  A  child  can  understand  what  "three" 
means  when  he  can  perceive  the  resemblance  between 
three  horses  and  three  marbles  —  when  he  can  perceive 
that  they  resemble  each  other  in  being  threes.  Until 
then  any  attempt  to  teach  him  numbers  must  result  in 
failure.  When  also  can  a  pupil  study  technical  grammar 
intelligently  ?  When  he  can  form  the  conceptions  with 
which  it  deals.  But  the  only  way  we  can  learn  when  a 
child  can  perceive  numerical  relations,  or  a  boy  form  the 
conceptions  required  in  the  study  of  technical  grammar  is 
by  actual  investigation  ;  there  is  no  a  priori  method. 

How  to  Determine  what  is  the  Best  Curriculum.  - 

But  these  are  not  the  only  kinds  of  question  which  the 
study  of  individuals  must  answer.  As  the  title  of  this 
lesson  is  intended  to  suggest,  the  term  child -study  is 
altogether  too  narrow  to  indicate  the  scope  of  the  investi- 
gations that  must  contribute  essential  results  to  the  science 
of  education.  Compare  the  courses  of  study  of  three 


39O  THE    STUDY    OF    INDIVIDUALS. 

typical  institutions:  Harvard,  Yale,  and  Stanford.  What 
is  the  reason  for  the  fundamental  differences  between 
them  ?  It  is  a  difference  of  educational  theories.  The 
Harvard  theory  apparently  is  based  on  two  suppositions : 

(1)  that  a  primary  purpose  of  education  is  to  make  a  man 
an  expert  in  some  department,  on  the  ground,  in  part,  that 
the  needs  of  modern  life  require  that  a  man  be  capable  of 
rendering  expert  service  to  society,  in  part,  on  the  ground 
that  a  man  who  knows  by  his  own  experience  what  expert 
knowledge  is  will  have  proper  respect  for  it  in  other  lines ; 

(2)  that  the  field  in  which  a  man's  aptitudes  best  qualify 
him  to  become  an  expert  will  be  most  reliably  indicated 
by  his  own  unrestricted  preferences. 

We  have  already  seen  that  respect  for  expert  knowledge 
is  an  indispensable  part  of  a  preparation  for  rational  living. 
Among  the  questions,  therefore,  which  must  be  answered 
before  we  have  a  right  to  a  final  opinion  as  to  the  wisdom 
of  the  Harvard  plan,  are  these :  (i)  Does  the  possession  of 
expert  knowledge  in  one  field  give  a  man  proper  respect 
for  it  in  other  fields  ?  (2)  Are  the  unrestricted  preferences 
of  students  the  most  reliable  indications  of  their  special 
aptitudes  ?  These,  manifestly,  are  questions  of  fact,  ques- 
tions which  can  not  be  answered  in  any  a  priori  way.  We 
can  answer  them  only  by  a  careful  and  comprehensive 
study  of  results. 

Importance  of  Discovering  a  Child's  Special  Gift.  — 

We  can  further  illustrate  the  necessity  of  the  study  of 
individuals  by  a  quotation  from  the  article  already  cited. 
"Another  important  function  of  the  public  school  in  a 
democracy,"  says  President  Eliot,  "  is  the  discovery  and 
development  of  the  gift  or  capacity  of  each  individual 


A  CHILD'S  SPECIAL  GIFT. 

child.      This  discovery  should   be  made  at   the  earliest 
practicable  age,  and  once  made,  should  always  influence 
and  sometimes  determine,  the  education  of  the  individual' 
is  for  the  interest  of  society  to  make  the  most  of  every 
useful  gift  or  faculty  which  any  member  may  fortunately 
possess;  and  it  is  one  of  the  main  advantages  of  fluent 
and  mobile  democratic  society  that  it  is  more  likely  than 
any  other   society   to   secure   the   fruition   of   individual 
capacities.     To  make  the  most  of  any  individual's  peculiar 
power,  it  is  important  to  discover  it  early,  and  then  train 
it  continuously  and  assiduously.  ...  In  the  ideal  demo- 
cratic school  no  two  children  would  follow  the  same  course 
of  study  or  have  the  same  tasks,  except  that  they  would 
all  need  to  learn  the  use  of  the  elementary  tools  of  educa- 
tion —  reading,  writing,  and    ciphering.      The   different 
children  would  hardly  have  any  identical  needs.  .  .  .  The 
perception  or  discovery  of  the  individual  gift  or  capacity 
would  often  be  effected  in  the  elementary  school,  but  more 
generally  in  the  secondary  ;  and  the  making  of  these  dis- 
coveries should  be  held  one  of  the  most  important  parts  of 
the  teacher's  work.  .  .  .  There  is  no  such  thing  as  equality 
of  gifts,  or  powers,  or  faculties,  among  either  children  or 
adults;  on  the  contrary,  there  is  the  utmost  diversity;  and 
education   and  all  the  experience  of  life  increase  these 
diversities,  because  school  and  the  earning  of  a  livelihood, 
and  the  reaction  of  the  individual  upon  his  surroundings, 
all  tend  strongly  to  magnify  innate  diversities.     The  pre- 
tended democratic  school  with  an  inflexible  programme  is 
fighting  not  only  against  nature,  but  against  the  interests 
of  democratic  society.     Flexibility  of  programme  should 
begin  in  the  elementary  school  years  before  the  period  of 
secondary  education  is  reached.     There  should  be  some 


392  THE   STUDY   OF  INDIVIDUALS. 

choice  of  subjects  of  study  by  ten  years  of  age  ;  and  much 
variety  by  fifteen  years  of  age.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
programmes  of  elementary  as  well  as  of  secondary  schools 
should  represent  fairly  the  chief  divisions  of  knowledge, 
namely,  language  and  literature,  mathematics,  natural 
science,  and  history,  besides  drawing  and  music.  If  school 
programmes  fail  to  represent  the  main  varieties  of  intel- 
lectual activity,  they  will  not  afford  the  means  of  discover- 
ing the  individual  gifts  and  tendencies  of  pupils."  What- 
ever differences  some  of  us  may  feel  with  respect  to 
details,  I  think  we  shall  all  agree  that  one  of  the  important 
functions  of  education  is  to  help  pupils  discover  what  they 
are  best  fitted  to  do,  and  this  function  can  only  be  per- 
formed by  schools  which  lay  great  emphasis  upon  the 
study  of  individuals. 

Extension  of  Study  of  Individuals  by  Means  of 
History.  —  These  illustrations,  taken  almost  at  random, 
have  enabled  us  to  realize  how  not  only  the  science,  but 
the  art  of  education  depends  largely  upon  the  study  of 
individuals.  If  we  extend  this  individual  study  by  means 
of  history,  we  shall  find  conceptions  of  the  human  mind 
constantly  modified  in  a  suggestive  and  helpful  way.  The 
sluggish  Oriental,  the  intellectual  Athenian,  the  super- 
stitious knight  of  the  Middle  Ages,  are  so  many  different 
forms  into  which  our  common  human  nature  has  been 
carved  by  that  marvelous  sculptor  —  education.  The 
teacher  who  studies  history  from  the  point  of  view  of 
Psychology  will  not  only  find  himself  in  possession  of 
constantly  growing  and  useful  and  inspiring  knowl- 
edge of  historical  facts,  but  he  will  find  his  knowledge 
of  the  human  mind  enlarging,  and  his  realization  of  the 


QUESTIONS.  393 

almost    omnipotence   of    education    ever    growing    more 
vivid. 


Summary.  —  We  may  sum  up  the  benefits  which  a 
study  of  children,  or  of  individuals,  as  I  prefer  to  state  it, 
may  render  to  the  teacher  as  follows  :  (i)  It  will  help  him 
see  at  what  stage  in  the  development  of  his  pupils  the 
various  subjects  which  pupils  should  study  should  be  taken 
up ;  (2)  it  will  help  him  in  determining  how  much  pupils 
can  learn  ;  (3)  it  will  help  him  decide  how  much  work  can 
be  safely  required  of  pupils ;  (4)  it  will  help  him  discover 
the  special  gifts  of  pupils ;  and  (5)  it  will  help  him  at 
every  step  in  his  work  by  helping  him  to  ascertain  what 
his  pupils  know  of  the  subjects  he  is  trying  to  teach. 

QUESTIONS    ON   THE  TEXT. 

1 .  What  was  the  character  of  the  first  study  of  Pedagogy  in  this 
country  ? 

2.  How  is  it  studied  now  ? 

3.  Mention  some  of  the  cautions  which  you  should  bear  in  mind 
in  studying  children. 

4.  Mention  some  of  the  things  to  be  observed. 

5.  Mention  some  of  the  questions  to  be  asked  in  learning  the 
contents  of  children's  minds. 

6.  Can  you  study  Psychology  in  history  ? 

7.  State  at  length  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  the  systematic 
study  of  children. 


APPENDIX   A. 

THE  case  mentioned  illustrates  a  dangerous  tendency 
in  our  most  highly  organized  schools  —  the  tendency  to 
forget  the  individual  in  the  multitude.  In  our  zeal  for 
organization,  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  sight  of  the  fact 
that  the  school  exists  for  the  individual,  not  the  .individual 
for  the  school.  However  hard  it  may  be  to  draw  the  line 
in  practice,  the  principle  is  perfectly  clear.  Whenever  it 
is  evident  that  the  individual  will  be  injured  by  conforming 
to  the  requirements  that  are  supposed  to  be  good  for  the 
multitude,  he  should  be  excused  from  them.  Society  has 
too  great  an  interest  in  the  best  possible  education  of  all 
its  members  to  justify  the  sacrifice  of  any  of  them  to  the 
demands  of  an  unattainable  and  therefore  impracticable 
ideal. 

APPENDIX    B. 

WHEN  it  is  remembered  that  the  inferential  method 
may  base  its  inferences  on  facts  obtained  in  a  variety  of 
ways,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  there  may  be  various  subdivi- 
sions of  it.  When  its  facts  are  obtained  by  comparing 
animals  with  human  beings,  it  is  called  the  comparative 
method ;  when  by  experiment  —  as  when  we  ascertain 
how  long  a  time  elapses  from  the  contact  of  an  object  with 
any  part  of  the  body  to  the  sensation  —  it  is  called  the 
experimental  method,  and  so  on. 


394 


INDEX. 


ABILITY  to  apprehend  relations, 

389- 

Acquired  reflexes,  50. 
Actions,  191. 
automatic,  49. 
centres  of  automatic,  50. 
reflex,  49. 
voluntary,  50. 
voluntary,  reflex  and  semi-reflex, 

42. 

Activity,  intellectual,  301. 
Adaptation  and  interest,  136. 

law  of,  137. 

Affirmative     and     negative    judg- 
ments, 315. 
conclusions,  330. 
American  crow-bar  case,  20. 
Analogy,  argument  from,  344. 
Animal  intelligence,  324,  325. 
Animals,  experiments  upon  lower, 

20. 
experiments  upon  the  cortex  of 

different,  56. 
removal  of  parts  of  the  brain  of, 

59- 

souls  in,  65. 

Ant,  intelligence  of,  324. 
Antagonism  or  opposition  of  know- 
ing, feeling,  willing,  155. 
Antecedents  of  sensations  are  phys- 
ical facts,  165. 
the  four,  166. 
Aphasia,  22,  60,  61. 

motor,  23. 
Apperception,  346. 

defined,  352. 

Application  of  association  of  ideas 
in  cultivating  the  memory, 
238,  243. 


Argument  from  analogy,  344. 

uncertainty  of,  345. 
Arnold,  Dr.,  quoted,  269. 
Ascetism,  194. 
Assimilation  and  discrimination, 

different  kinds  of,  349. 
Association  fibres,  39. 
Association  of  ideas,  196. 

application  of,  in  cultivating  the 
memory,  238,  243. 

by  contiguity,  197,  202. 

by  logic,  198. 

by  similarity,  197,  202,  238. 

difference    between,   and   judg- 
ment, 312. 

difference    between   mechanical 
and  logical,  198. 

explanation  of  the,  205. 

fundamental  law  of,  205. 

illustrated,  196. 

mechanical,  197. 

physical  basis  of,  205. 
Attention,  103,  130. 

and  discipline,  145. 

and  feeling,  106. 

and  memory,  104. 

and  reasoning,  105. 

and  recollection,  105. 

and  volition,  107. 

concentrated,  107. 

conditions  of  non-voluntary,  1 18. 

conditions  of  voluntary,  1 1 2. 

defined,  no. 

importance  of,  107. 

non-voluntary,  and  physical  con- 
dition, 121. 

novelty  a  non-voluntary,  1 19. 

power  of,  137. 

rules  foi  getting,  130. 


395 


396 


INDEX. 


Attention  —  continued. 

the  will  and  voluntary,  122. 
training  of,  107. 

two  causes  of  non-voluntary,  114. 
very   young  children   incapable 

of  voluntary,  113. 
voluntary,  and  interest,  121. 
voluntary  and  non-voluntary, 

112. 
voluntary  and  non-voluntary, 

necessary,  131. 
voluntary    attention    developed 

by  non-voluntary,  115. 
Authority,  beliefs  on,  187. 
Automatic  or  reflex  actions,  44,  49. 

centres  of,  50. 
Automatic  theory,  44. 

BAGEHOT,  Walter,  quoted,  320. 
Bain,  Professor,  quoted,  89, 1 1 3, 1 1 4, 

190,  191. 

Basis  of  habit,  188. 
Bateman,  Dr.,  quoted,  22. 
Belief  and  imagination,  265. 
Beliefs,  necessary,  86,  90. 
Blood,  supply  of,  to  the  brain,  18. 
Bodies,  knowledge  of  our,  73. 
Body  and  brain,  18. 

and  mind,  16. 
Books,  144. 

are  only  means  to  ends,  229. 
Brain  and  body,  18. 

and  mind,  17,  20. 

area  of,  35. 

correspondence  between  size  and 
weight  of,  and  intelligence^. 

cortex  of,  35. 

effect  of  mental  action  on  the,  16. 

gray  and  white  matter  of  the,  32. 

gray  matter  of  the,  55. 

Greek    philosophers'   opinion 
about  the,  17. 

is  the  organ  of  the  mind,  20. 

landmarks  of  the,  36. 

local  disease  of,  59. 

removal  of  parts  of  the,  of  ani- 
mals, 57. 

size  and  weight  of,  23. 

supply  of  blood  to  the,  18. 

weight  of,  35. 
Brown,  Thomas,  quoted,  203. 


CARPENTER,  quoted,  103,  106,  145. 
Central  nervous  system,  number  of 

nerve  cells  in  the,  26. 
Centres  of  automatic  action,  50. 
Cerebellum,  32,  50,  51,  52. 
Cerebral  cortex,  32. 
Cerebral  functions,  located  in  the 
cortex,  54. 

localization  of,  20. 
Cerebrum,  32,  35,  45,  53. 

and  intelligence,  53. 

functions  of,  53,  54. 

injuries  of,  53. 
Character,  Dr.  Dewey's  definition  of, 

373- 

Chess-players,  blindfolded,  168. 
Child,  experiment  upon  a,  115. 
how  he  distinguishes  his  body 
from  the  rest  of  the  external 
world,  73. 
importance  of  the  discovery  of 

the  capacity  of  each,  390. 
Children,  doctrine  of  apperception 
shows  the  necessity  of  study- 
ing, 387. 

importance  of  the  study  of,  384. 
mental  life  of  very  young,  113. 
study  of,  84. 

very  young,  incapable  of  volun- 
tary attention,  113. 
Children's  curiosity,  142. 
judgments,  316. 
minds,  contents  of,  387. 
reasoning,  340. 

Comenius,  quoted,  13,  39,  131. 
Commissural  fibres,  39. 
Compayre,  quoted,  249. 
Complexity  of  knowledge,  354. 
Concentration  of  thought,  and  the 

will,  123. 

interfered  with,  77. 
Conception,  273. 

Concept,  abstraction  in  the,  290, 292. 
assimilation  and  discrimination 

in,  348. 

changes  in,  283. 
comparison  in  the,  290,  292. 
defined,  273,  284. 
faulty,  285. 
formation  of,  274,  281,  283,  305, 

339- 


INDEX. 


Concept  —  continued. 

generalization  in  the,  275,  283, 
290,  292. 

perception  in  the,  305. 

real  and  vital,  298. 

voluntary  and  involuntary,  285. 
Concepts,    three   steps   toward    the 

knowledge  of,  281. 
Conclusions,  affirmative,  330. 

true  and  false,  329. 
Conditions  of  non-voluntary  atten- 
tion, 1 1 8. 

of  voluntary  attention,  112. 
Conscious  knowledge,  97. 
Consciousness,  17,  98. 

and  the  brain,  17. 

of  power,  143. 

of  self,  100. 
Cortex,  53. 

and  intelligence,  53. 

and  motor  fibres,  38. 

and  sensory  fibres,  37. 

a  system  of  organs,  37. 

cerebral  functions  located  in  the, 

54- 

experiments    upon    the,  of   ani- 
mals, 56. 

of    the    cerebrum   closely    con- 
nected with  intelligence,  35. 
stimulation  of  a  definite  part  of 

the,  57. 

Cortical  centre,  change  in,  169. 
Crow-bar  case,  American,  20. 
Curiosity  in  children,  142. 

DAVIDSON,  Professor,  quoted,  127, 

250,  381,  382. 

Deductions,  practical,  375. 
Development,  nature  of,  4,  364. 

symmetrical,  365. 
Dewey,  Dr.,  quoted,  375,  377- 

on  promotion,  377. 
Dewey's  conception  and  that  of  the 
ancient  Greeks,  374. 

definition  of  character,  373. 
Discipline  and  attention,  145. 
Distinctions  of  fact  and  distinctions 

of  worth,  127. 
Dog,  intelligence  of,  325. 
Drawing,  231. 

and  memory  of  form,  243. 


EAR,  31. 

Edinger,  quoted,  39. 

Education  and  perception,  224. 

democratic,  383. 

Huxley,  Professor,  on,  365. 

object  of,  379. 

object  of,  defined,  124,  130. 

problem  of,  227. 

the  end  of,  373. 

value  of  an,  133. 
Educational  value  of  geography, 
134. 

of  science,  135. 
Efferent  impulses,  48. 
Effort,  193. 
Eliot,  President,  quoted,  370,  383, 

390- 

Emotions,  possession  of  a  certain 
responsiveness  of  the,  381. 

Emulation,  160. 

Energy,  muscular,  147. 

Enthusiasm,  power  of,  138. 

Ethics,  physiological  study  of  men- 
tal conditions  an  ally  of,  194. 

Experiment  upon  a  child,  1 15. 

Experiments  upon  lower  animals,  20. 
upon  the  cortex  of  different  ani- 
mals, 56. 
with  the  brain,  20. 

Explanation  of  the  association  of 
ideas,  205. 

Eye,  31. 

FACTS,  psychical,  350. 
Feeling,  153. 

and  attention,  106. 

and  knowledge,  153. 
Fiske,  John,  quoted,  82. 
Fitch,  quoted,  8,  248. 
Fostei,  quoted,  44. 
Fouillee,  quoted,  237. 
Freeman,  quoted,  337. 

GALTON,  Sir  Francis,  quoted,  243, 

258,  270. 

Ganglia,  large,  or  optic  thalami,  32. 
Garmo,  Dr.  De,  quoted,  303,  362. 
Geography  and  imagination,  269. 

educational  value  of,  134. 
Green,  Professor  S.  S.,  quoted,  288, 

296. 


398 


INDEX. 


HABIT,  basis  of,  188. 

influence  of,  201. 

law  of,  183. 

Reid,  Dr.,  on,  183. 
Habits,  184. 

bad,  185. 

depend  on  what  we  do,  186. 

moral,  190. 

of  reasoning,  187. 
Hall,  G.  Stanley,  quoted,  118. 
Halleck,  quoted,  242. 
Hamilton,  Sir  William,  quoted,  276. 
Harlow,  Dr.,  quoted,  21. 
Health  and  memory,  242. 
Herbartian  conception,  373. 

steps,  303. 

Herbartians,  their  mistake,  158. 
Hering,  Professor  E.,  on  the  func- 
tions of  the  cerebrum,  61. 
Hoffding,  II.,   on   children's   judg- 
ments, 320. 
Hours  of  study,  46. 
Huxley,    Professor,   on    education, 
365. 

IDEAS  and  ideals,  125. 

difference  between,  126. 
Ideas  precede  all  progress,  293. 
Image,  255. 
Imagination,  255,  334,  368. 

abuse  of,  266. 

and  belief,  265. 

and  feelings,  264. 

and  geography,  269. 

and  reading,  270. 

constructive,  256,  260,  263. 

defined,  255. 

different  kinds  of,  255. 

in  scientific  investigation,  268. 

reproductive,  256. 

training  of,  268. 
Importance  of  attention,  107. 
Impulses,  efferent,  48. 
Inattention,  explanation  of,  148. 
Individuality  and  inattention,  150. 
Individuals,  the  study  of,  384. 
Induction,  339. 

danger  in  hasty,  342. 

guiding  principle  in,  343. 
Inferences,  ethical  and  pedagogical, 
189. 


Initiative,  190. 

Injuries  of  cerebrum,  53. 

Injury  of  the  brain  impairs  memory, 

22. 

Intellect,  possession  of  a  certain  dis- 
cipline of  the,  381. 
Intellectual  activity,  301. 
Intelligence  and  cerebrum,  53. 

and  cortex,  53. 

animal,  324,  325. 

corresponding  to  size  and  weight 

of  brain,  23. 
Interest  and  adaptation,  136. 

and  voluntary  attention,  121. 

in  our  work  essential  to  success, 

'39- 

Introspection  becomes  retrospec- 
tion, 84. 

JAMES,  Professor,  quoted,  23,  42,  58, 

62,  189,  224,  325,  368. 
Jevons,  quoted,  344,  345. 
Judgment,  305. 

act  of,  illustrated,  306. 

conscious,  307. 

defined,  311. 

difference    between   association 
of  ideas  and,  312. 

nature  of  act  of,  310. 

possible  by  the  laws  of  associa- 
tion, 306. 
Judgments,  351. 

affirmative  and  negative,  315. 

children's,  316. 

different  kinds  of,  314. 

first   appearance    of    conscious, 
308. 

Hoffding,  H.,  on  children's,  320. 

implicit  and  explicit,  313. 

of  uneducated  men,  317. 

what  they  relate  to,  308. 

KEEN,  Dr.  W.  W.,  quoted,  59. 
Kepler,  quoted,  135. 
Knowing,  feeling,  willing,  152. 
Knowledge,  209. 

and  feeling,  1 53. 

a  resultant  of  sensations,  209. 

complexity  of,  354. 

conscious  knowledge  is  certain, 
97- 


INDEX. 


399 


•   Knowledge  —  continued. 

difference  between  knowledge  o: 

necessary    truths    and    con 

scious,  97. 
expert,  382. 

nature  of  conscious,  95. 
need  of  a  criterion  of,  5. 
of  laws  of  nature,  n. 
of  our  bodies,  73. 
possession  of  a  certain  kind  of, 

38i. 
simple,  360. 

LADD,  Professor,  quoted,  23,  237. 
Language,  purposes  of,  291. 
Law  of  adaptation,  137. 
Law  of  association  of  ideas,  funda- 
mental, 205. 
Law  of  hakit,  183. 

in  nervous  system,  205. 

is  a  material  law,  193. 
Law  of  parsimony,  342. 
Law,  Weber's,  179. 
Laws  of  mind,  78. 
Laws  of  nature,  knowledge  of,  n. 
Leibniz,  quoted,  235. 
Lindner,  quoted,  in,  235. 
Localization   of    mental   functions, 

meaning  of,  54. 
Locke,  quoted,  146. 
Lombard,  Dr.,  quoted,  19. 

MANNING,  Archbishop,  quoted,  146. 
Martin,  Professor,  quoted,  29,  42, 

59- 
Material  wholes  and  thought  wholes, 

358. 
Matter,  gray  and  white,  of  the  brain, 

32. 
Mechanical  memory,  4,  246,  249. 

nature  of  reflex  actions,  43. 
Mechanism   of   reflex  action   illus- 
trated, 45. 
of  voluntary  action  illustrated, 

46. 

Medulla  oblongata,  37,  50,  51. 
Memory,  4,  234,  368. 
and  attention,  104. 
and  health,  242. 

assimilation  and  discrimination 
in,  347- 


Memory  —  continued. 
different  kinds  of,  247. 
elements  of,  234. 
images,  239. 
impairment  of,  due  to  injury  of 

the  brain,  22. 
mechanical,  4,  246,  249. 
often  excellent  in  the  uneducated, 

246. 

physical  basis  of,  236,  242. 
powers  involved  in,  235. 
remarkable,  of  Chinamen,  4. 
universal  cultivation  of  the,  248. 
Memory  culture,  242,  248. 
by  interest,  242,  245. 
by  logic,  243,  251. 
by  visualizing,  243. 
Mental  facts,  173. 

and  physical  facts,  72. 
definition  of,  69. 
in  which    Psychology  is    inter- 
ested, 77. 
nature  of,  74. 
unconscious,  69,  75. 
Mental  life  of  very  young  children, 

"3- 

Method,  difficulties  of  the  inferen- 
tial, 82. 
difficulties  of  the  introspective, 

S3- 

the  inferential,  79. 
the  inferential,  and  the  study  of 

history,  80. 
the  inferential,  and  the  study  of 

our  own  minds,  81. 
the  introspective,  79,  86. 
the    objective,    294,    296,    297, 

3°3- 
what  we  can  learn  by  means  of 

the  introspective,  86. 
Methods,  good  and  bad,  376. 

the  introspective  and  inferential, 
serve  to  study  mental  facts, 
86. 
to  be  used  in  dealing  with  the 

mind,  1 1. 
used  in  dealing  with  objects  in 

the  material  world,  10. 
VIeynert's  postulate,  62. 
Will,  J.  S.,  quoted,  191. 
Vlilton,  quoted,  225. 


400 


INDEX. 


Mind  and  body,  16. 

and  brain,  17,  20. 

and  soul,  no  difference  between, 
68. 

change  in,  due  to  injury  of  the 
brain,  21. 

dealing  with  the,  n. 

difference    between    the,  and   a 
natural  agent,  12. 

laws  of,  78. 

meaning  of,  68. 

play  of  the,  300. 
Mnemonics,  168. 
Moral  habits,  190. 
Mosso's  table,  19. 
Motor  fibres  and  the  cortex,  38. 

NATURK,  dealing  with,  10. 

of  development,  364. 
Necessary  truths,  reasons  for  study- 
ing the  nature  of,  95. 
Nerve  cells,  26. 

and  nerve  fibres,  26. 

forms  of,  26. 

number  of,  in  brain,  26. 
Nerve  centres,  function  of,  47. 
Xerve  fibres  and  nerve  cells,  con- 
stituents of,  26. 

functions  of,  29. 

number  of  sensory,  26. 
Nerves,  17. 

afferent  and  efferent,  30,  34. 

and  tendons,  25. 

auditory,  31,  165,  169. 

number  of,  entering  the  spinal 
cord,  34. 

olfactory,  31. 

optic,  31,  1 66. 

sensory  and  motor,  41,  171. 
Nervous  impulse,  nature  of  a,  41. 
Nervous  system,  central,  25. 

changes  in,  not  followed  by  sen- 
sation, 178. 

functions  of,  28,  41. 

law  of  habit  in,  205. 

sensations  depend  on,  177. 

the  unit  of  the,  27. 
Nose,  31. 

Number  of  nerve  cells  in  the  cen- 
tral nervous  system,  26. 

of  nerve  fibres,  26. 


OBJECT  lessons,  232. 

Objective  facts,  sounds  and  colors 
as,  174. 

Objective  method,  303. 

Objects  in  the  material  world,  meth- 
ods used  in  dealing  with,  10. 

Observation,  how  to  cultivate,  228. 
importance  of  the  training  of, 

227. 

powers  of,  of  the  North  American 
Indians,  4. 

Opposition  or  antagonism  of  know- 
ing, feeling,  willing,  155. 

PAIX,  96. 

Parsimony,  law  of,  342. 
Pedagogical  principle,  358. 
Pedagogical  study,  change  in,  385. 
Perception,  208.  • 

and  education,  224. 

assimilation  and  discrimination 
in,  346. 

books  hinder,  229. 

by  differences,  279. 

by  hearing,  218. 

by  sight,  212,  221. 

by  smell,  212. 

by  taste,  213. 

by  touch,  25,  218,  221. 

depends  upon  attention,  104. 

directions  for,  232. 

sensations    translated    by,    into 
knowledge,  209. 

three  steps  in,  216. 
Percept  and  concept,  305. 
Percepts,  351. 
Perez,  quoted,  278. 
Pestalozzi,  quoted,  14,  148,  292,  293. 
Pestalozzi's  reform,  293. 
Physical  and  mental  facts,  72. 
Physical  condition  and  non-volun- 
tary attention,  121. 
Physical  facts,  antecedents  of  sen- 
sations are,  165. 
Physiological  Psychology,  16. 

on  localization  of  functions,  20, 
54,  63. 

on  pain,  25. 

problem  of,  61. 

suggestions  of,  367. 
Physiological  study,  194. 


INDEX. 


401 


Power,  consciousness  of,  143. 

of  attention,  137. 
Premises,  different,  332. 
Preparation  for  rational  living,  379. 

of  object  lessons,  232. 
Preyer,  Professor,  quoted,  115. 
Primary    teaching,    revolution    in, 

149. 

Principle,  pedagogical,  358. 
Psychical  facts,  350. 
Psychology  and  education,  386. 

and  teaching,  9. 

benefits  of,  i. 

defined,  i,  65,  76. 

interested  in  certain  mental  facts, 
77- 

problem  of  Physiological,  61. 

reasons  for  studying,  i,  3. 

study    of,    develops    power    of 
thought,  i. 

the  method  of,  77. 

the  subject  matter  of,  72. 

QUICK,  quoted,  160. 

RATIONAL  living,  379. 
Reasoning,  320,  369. 

and  attention,  105. 

assimilation  and  discrimination 
in,  349. 

associational,  323. 

deductive  and  inductive,  326, 331 . 

defined,  322. 

difference  between  inductive  and 
deductive,  329. 

from  particular  to  particular,  326. 

habits  of,  187. 

of  children,  321. 

training  of,  336. 
Recollection  and  attention,  105. 
Recollections,  351. 
Reflex  actions,  49. 

mechanical  nature  of,  43. 
Reflexes,  acquired,  50. 
Reid,  Dr.,  on  habit,  183. 

quoted,  258. 

Relations,  ability  to  apprehend,  389. 
Ribot,  quoted,  236. 
Romanes,  G.  ).,  quoted,  324. 
Rules  for  getting  attention,  130. 
for  teaching,  130. 


SCHOOL  lessons,  144. 
School  programmes,  147. 
Science,  educational  value  of,  135. 
Sensation,  163. 

and  attention,  103. 

assimilation  and  discrimination 
in,  346. 

defined,  171. 

examples  of,  169. 

in  amputated  limb,  101. 

of  sound,  165. 
Sensations,  350. 

antecedents  of,  164. 

characteristics  of  the  first,  210. 

depend  on  nervous  system,  177. 

depend  upon  attention,  103. 

knowledge  a  resultant  of,  209. 

knowledge  begins  with,  208. 

local  qualities  of,  218. 

localized,  217. 

of  sight  and  seeing,  171. 

through  hearing,  218. 

through  sight,  212,  221. 

through  smell,  212. 

through  taste,  213. 

through  touch,  25,  218,  221. 
Sense  organs,  nature  of  the,  30. 
Senses,  what  they  tell  us  of  objects, 

212. 

Sensory  fibres  and  the  cortex,  37. 
Sidgwick,  Arthur,  quoted,  138. 
Similarity,  association  of  ideas  by, 

197,  202,  238. 

Size  and  weight  of  brain,  23. 
Smell,  sensations  through,  212. 
Socrates,  quoted,  188. 
Soul,   no   difference   between,   and 
mind,  68. 

immortality  of,  187. 
Souls  in  animals,  65. 
Spencer,  quoted,  382. 
Spinal  cord,  32,  51. 

number  of  nerves  entering,  34. 
Study,  hours  of,  146. 
Success,  conditions  of,  8. 
Sully,  James,  quoted,  184,  215,  266. 

TAINE,  quoted,  168. 
Tate,  quoted,  253. 
Teaching,  127. 

and  Psychology,  9. 


INDEX. 


Teaching  — 


good,  159. 
nature  o: 

revolution  in  primary,  149. 
rules  for.  130. 
Temporal  signs,  240. 
Theory,  the  automatic,  44. 
Thought,  the  study  of  Psychology 
develops  power  of,   i. 
•£MC  Animal  Intelligence.  Be- 
lief,  Concept,  Deduction,  In- 
duction,  Judgment.    Knowl- 
edge, Reasoning.) 
Thought  wholes  in  arithmetic. 
Thoughts,  concentration  of,  103. 
Thring,  Edward,  quoted,  108,  no. 
Time,  idea  of,  3 
Training  of  attention,  107. 

of  imagination,  2€& 
Truth,  love  of,  53(61 
Truths,  necessary,  86. 

necessity  of  necessary,  90. 

UineoKSCiocs  mental  facts,  69,  75. 

VISUALIZING  in  training  memory, 

-43- 

\  olition  and  attention,  107. 
Volkman  on  teaching,  159. 


Voluntary  actions,  50. 

and  involuntary  concept. 

and  non-voluntary  attention,  1 1 2. 

attention  and  interest,  121. 

attention  developed  by  non- 
voluntary  attention,  115. 

reflex  and  semi-reflex  actions. 
4-- 

WARP,  quoted,  211,  239. 
Weber's  law,  179. 
Weight  of  braii- 
ill,  122. 
and  concentration   of   thought, 

i-3- 

and  voluntary  attention,  122. 
in  developing  character,  190. 
influence  of  the,  upon  imagina- 
tion, _;$. 
possession  of  a  certain  training 

of  the,  0 
Willing,  153. 
Wit.  ^46. 
Words,  blind  use  of.  : 

do  not  convey  thoughts,  288. 
Wundt,  Professor  Wilhelm,  quoted, 
179- 

ZIEHEN.  Professor  Theodor,  quoted, 
17$. 


O  Books  for  yow  Cbrary 


Xo  Prf  rate  ScxwL    Higi   School  or  C^kjf  Ubraj  fc 

w~:  thrxc  fas-Trig  oa  its  shelves  ooe  «r  «K«  «f  the 
foftowMg  books  for  its  students  to  refer  to. 

Teacher?  are  ordering  Tsar.y  ci  rbcic  books  far  tkar  ovm 
personal  «se.     3f  ocie*  parJcuLrly  ;ae  star-ed   *  Ifaes. 


*Prr»»  arjd  O/cs  I'Boti  ridirf  v  l-&y>r~-23Z  O-i^o-.-  s  I>  -sc3«e<f> 
*TfcK*  ICmfce  Dedaajac-.ca  f  r  C^il-j-  it=i 
Tfawt  JCnote  Rea.Cagx  f-r 


r-z^ii  Da^.ocarT 

*  "      t7n«.  Tnffiiab.  Fir." 

Dxaooarr 
'     M'I   '  ii  i  j 

*  **  r^Bih.  TaiJiifc  Cn  i  \  Fkliu  •  j 

ifc  F  i 

.  Dicaamafj  ..............    x^a 


•Hinds  It  5o&e*s  Xr»  Teacaoieit  Lexxco. 

,    T*J  JJOU    ip       •»•    -  -       "         -r 

OUT: 

ri  n't'i  Ti  iki  i  riiMMi  •  "ifc  i  f  fTin  irli  •  IT    1  n  rt   <i»ini.. 

I'V^BBt^'Il^V^  <^  F^^  IT     C      M   fl^TTPJJ  "        7fV^V~1    ^Awf    K^M^M^\ 


!!••  !•  »!•••!  Qiill  •  i\ai  i .    i-oo 

•Sov  t*  Pnacxmtfe  Cocxeedr ^5 

-75 

:    .     -    --=     :-: 

We 


boots  oe  tins  Hst;  «po«  recent  erf  rh=  prxe,  or  if  TOO  ha«c  aar 
scfcool  or  eoBege  books,  acw  cr  secoB<tfaiid,  win™  yo*  wand 
tfee  to  sad  as  a  eackaaee,  we  v£H  accept  tJKS  »  prraest. 


4-5-13-14  Cooper  f    11  IP,  New  York  Qty. 


Dictionaries :  The  Classic  Series.   Half  morocco,  $2.00  each. 

Especially  planned  and  carefully  produced  to  meet  the  require- 
ments of  students  and  teachers  in  colleges,  and  high  schools. 
Up  to  the  times  in  point  of  contents,  authoritative  while  modern 
as  regards  scholarship,  instantly  accessible  in  respect  to  arrange- 
ment, of  best  quality  as  to  typography  and  paper,  and  in  a  binding 
at  once  elegant  and  durable.  Size  8x5^  inches.  Send  for  list  of 
important  colleges  and  high  schools  that  have  adopted  these  Dic- 
tionaries and  continue  to  use  them  year  in  and  year  out. 

French-English  and  English-French  Dictionary,  1132  pages. 

German-English  and  Eng.-Ger.  Dictionary,  1112  pages. 

Italian-English  and  English-Italian  Diet.,  1187  pages. 

Latin-English  and  English-Latin  Dictionary,  941  pages. 

Greek-English  and  English-Greek  Diet.,  1056  pages. 

English-Greek  Dictionary.    Price  $1.00. 

Dictionaries  :  The  Handy  Series.  "  Scholarship  modern  and 
accurate;  and  really  beautiful  print."  Pocket  edition,  $1.00. 

Spanish-English  and  English-Spanish,  474  pages,  $1.00. 

Italian- English  and  English-Italian,  428  pages,  $i.po. 

New-Testament  Lexicon.  Until  elyncw.  Just  published.  Ji.oo.  Pre- 
pared by  Prof.  Berry,  of  Chicago  University  and  Colgate  Univer- 
sity. Up-to-date  in  every  respect— typographically,  and  lex- 
icographically. Contains  a  fine  presentation  of  the  Synonyms 
of  the  Greek  Testament,  with  hints  on  discriminating  usage. 

Liddell  &  Scott's  Abridged  Greek  Lexicon,  $1.20. 
White's  Latin-English  Dictionary,  $1.20. 
White's  English-Latin  Dictionary,  $1.20. 
White's  Latin-English  and  Eng.-Lat.  Diet.,  $2.25. 

Caesar's  Idioms.  Complete,  with  English  equivalents.  25  cts. 
Alphabetically  arranged  for  ready  reference,  and  enabling  the 
pupil  to  acquire  quickly  a  ready  facility  in  solving  the  idioms. 

Hossfeld  Methods:  Spanish,  Italian,  German,  French,  $1.00 
each.  Keys  for  each,  35  cts.  Letter  Writer  for  each,  f  i.oo  each. 

Brooks'  Historia  Sacra,  with  ist  Latin  Lessons.     Revised, 

with  Vocabulary.  Price  SO  cents.  This  justly  popu'ar  volume, 
besides  the  Epitome  Historiae  Sacrse,  the  Notes,  and  the  Vocabu- 
lary, contains  100  pages  of  elementary  Latin  Lessons,  making  it 
practicable  for  the  teacher,  without  recourse  to  any  other  book, 
to  carry  the  pupil  quickly  and  in  easy  steps  over  the  ground  pre- 
paratory to  a  profitable  reading  of  the  Epitome  Historise  Sacrae. 

Brooks'  First  Lessons  in   Greek,  with   Lexicon.      Revised 

Edition.  Covering  sufficient  ground  to  enable  the  student  to 
read  the  New  Testament  in  the  Greek.  Price  SO  cts. 

Brooks'  New  Virgil's  JEneid,  with  Lexicon.    Revised  Edition. 

Notes,  Critical,  Historical  and  Mythological  Metrical  Index  and 
Map,  and  numerous  engravings  of  Antique  Statues,  Arms.  Gems, 
Coins  and  Medals.  Also  Questions  for  Examinations.  $1.50. 

Brooks'  New  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  with  Lexicon.  Illustrated 

and  Revised  Edition.  Expurgated  and  adapted  for  Mixed  Classes. 
Elucidated  by  an  Analysis  and  Explanation  of  each  Table.  With 
English  Notes,  Historical,  Mythological  and  Critical,  and  Ques- 
tions for  Examinations.  Price  reduced  to  $1 .  SO. 


Psychology  Simplified  for  Teachers.    Being  Gordy's  well 

known  Lessons  in  Psychology.  Familiar  talks  to  teachers  ami 
parents  on  how  to  observe  the  child-mind ,  and  on  the  value  of  child- 
study  in  the  successful  teaching  and  rearing  c/  the  young.  With 
questions  on  eat  h  Lesson,  and  a  list  of  Ike  things  to  be  itbsrrvni 
as  used  in  the  N.  Y.  College  for  the  Training  ol  Teachers.  $1.25. 

Dialogues.  Hinds  and  Noble's  neiv  idea.  Being  life-like 
episodes  from  popular  authors  like  Stevenson,  Crawford,  Mark 
Twain,  Dickens,  Scott,  arranged  in  the  form  of  simple  plays,  wilh 
everydetailexplained  as  to  dress,  make-up,  utensils,  furniture, etc., 
for  school-room  or  parlor.  $1.50. 

College  Men's  s-Minute  Declamations.    Up-to-date  selections 

from  live  men  like  Chauncey  Depew,  Hewitt,  Gladstone,  Cleve- 
land, Pres't  Eliot  (Harvard)  and  Carter  (Williams)  and  others.  N.  w 
material  with  vitality  in  it  for  prize  speaking.  Very  popular.  $1.00. 

College  Maids'  3-Minute  Readings.      Up  to  date  recitations 

from  living  men  and  women.  On  the  plan  of  the  popular  College 
Men's  Declamations, and  on  thesame  high  plane.  $1.00. 

Acme  Declamation  Book.     Single  pieces  and  dialogues.     For 

boys  and  girls  of  all  ages;  all  occasions.   Paper,  30  els  ;  cloth,  50  cts. 

Handy  Pieces  to  Speak.  Single  pieces  and  dialogues.  Primary, 
20  cts.;  Intermediate,  20  cts.;  Advanced,  20  cts.  All  three  for  50  c:s. 

Pros  and  Cons.  Complete  debates  of  the  affirmative  and  neg- 
ative of  the  stirring  queslions  of  the  day,  by  A.  H.  Craig,  author 
of  the  famous  Common  School  Question  and  Answer  Book,  now  in 
its  I7oth  thousand.  $1.50. 

Smith's  New  Class  Register.  The  best  of  record  books.  50  cts. 

Likes  and  Opposites.  Hinds  &  Noble's  new  Complete  Syn- 
onyms and  their  Opposites.  50  Cts. 

Letter  Writing.  Hinds  &  Noble's  new  handy  rules  for  correct 
correspondence.  75  Cts. 

Punctuation.     Hinds  &  Noble's  new  Manual.      Paper,  25  cts. 

Craig's  Revised  Common  School  Question  Book,  with  An- 
swers.   Enlarged  Edition,  revised  for  i)-97-'98.    $1.50. 
How  to  Become  Quick  at  Figures.    Enlarged  Edition.   |i.oo. 
How  to  Prepare  fora  Civil  Service  Examination.    Enlarged 

Edition  for  iSgy-'gS.  Revised  Civil  Service  Rules.  Full  instruc- 
tions for  both  sexes.  50  Cts. 

Bad  English.     Humiliating  "Breaks"  corrected.     30  cts. 

Composition  Writing  Made  Easy.  Very  successful.  Five 
Grades,  viz.:  A,  B,  C,  D,  E.  20  cts.  each.  All  five  for  75  cts. 

U.  S.  Constitution  in  German,  French,  and  English,  parallel 
columns,  with  explanatory  marginal  Notes.  Cloth,  500  ;  paper,  250. 

Bookkeeping  Blanks  at  30  cts.  per  set.  Five  Blank- Books  to 
the  set  Adapted  for  use  with  any  text-book  -  Elementary,  Prac- 
tical, or  Common  School.  Used  evtryaken  Price,  30  cts.  pertct. 

Key  to  Harvey's  Revised  English  Grammar,  60  cts. 


Mackenzie's 
Manual  of  Ethics 

NEW  EDITION  —  Price   $1.50  —  POSTPAID 

Though  it  is  only  a  few  months  since  we  under-  . 
took  the    introduction   of  this   sticcessful  work 
in  the  Colleges  and  High   Schools  of  America, 
we   have  already  secured  its  adoption  for  use  in 

Yale  College  Louisiana  State  University 

Brown  University  Middlebury  College 

Columbian  University  University  of  Tennessee 

Ohio  State  University  University  of  Buffalo 

hmith  College  Amity  College 

Lafayette  College  Mead'ville  Theological  School 

Washington  and  Lee  University      Thurman  University 

Union  College  University  of  Minnesota 

University  of  Virginia  University  of  Kansas 

Cumberland  University  Bangor  Theological  Seminary 

Heidelberg  College  Atlanta  University 

Koanoke  College  Yankton  College 

Western  Md.  College  Western  College 

Geneva  College  Boston  University 

Eureka  College  John  B.  Stetson  University 

Iowa  College  La  Grange  College 

University  of  California  Bates  College 

Vanderbilt  University,  Nashville    Bowdoin  College 

Montana  College  Washburn  College 

Iowa  Wesleyan  University  Southwest  Kansas  College 

Marietta  College  Ogden  College 

Nevada  State  University  Coll.  for  Women,  Greenville, 

Howard  University  S.  C. 

Like  a  bit  of  Spring  among  many  November-like  books  on  the 
same  subject.  President  John  Mason  Duncan,  Coates  College  for 
Young  Women,  Terre  Haute,  Ind. 

It  has  interested  me  more  than  any  other  discussion  of  the  subject 
I  have  examined.  /.  A.  Quatles,  D.D.,  LL.  D.,  Prof,  of  Philos., 
Washington  and  Lee  University,  Lexington,  Va. 

Clearly  the  best  manual  for  college  classes  which  has  appeared  in 
English.  Prof.  G.  A.  Tawney,  Beloit  College,  Wisconsin. 

Characterized  by  lucidity  and  freshness  in  an  unusual  degree. 
Prof.  John  E.  Russell,  Williams  College,  Mass. 

In  my  judgment  the  best  work  introductory  to  the  subject.  R.  M. 
Wenley,  Ph.  O  ,  University  of  Mich.,  Ann  Arbor. 

So  much  superior  to  other  textbooks  on  Ethics  that  I  do  not  stop  to 

give  the  reasons.      W.  P.  Johnston,  President  Geneva  College,  Penn. 

The  most  thoroughly  interesting  work  on  Ethics  for  the  class-room 

that  I  know.    N.  P.  Gilman,  Prof.  Ethics,  Meadvillc  T/ieol.  School,  Pa. 


Published  by  HINDS  &  NOBLE 

4-5-13-14  Cooper  Institute,  New  York  City 


A    000056242     1 


